Pins, Bullets and Journals
by knirbenrots
Summary: Digging into a case that demands Callen's presence make Eric and Nell realize how dangerous it may be. "So any mail with any anomalies is now meant for me, you mean?"
1. Chapter 1

**\- chapter 1 -**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

Digging into a case that demands Callen's presence make Eric and Nell realize how dangerous it may be.  
"So any mail with any anomalies is now meant for me, you mean?"

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill. I gladly used the NCIS team for this story

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

Callen?"

He looked up from the file he was working on. Checking paperwork wasn't exactly his favorite part of the job, but well, he had to deal with reports, journals, exact recording of events, financials and filing every case, whether it was closed or still open with dead ends, cold cases.

"Callen?" Eric repeated, closer now since he dropped himself in the empty chair behind Kensi's desk. He took one of the ballpoints which he started click-clacking frantically, and Callen sighed, putting his pen away.

"What, Eric? What you've got?"

Eric Beale shrugged. "There's this e-mail. Addressed to you. I think you ought to take a look at it."

At the quizzical look when Callen checked his mailbox without discovering anything, Eric added, still click-clacking, "not your own. The central one. Upstairs. I—well, I don't know what to think of it."

"Can't you check with the others?"

One click. And another one. Then Eric put down the pen, let his gaze go over the empty bullpen. "With who? So far there's only you and Mathilda DuBois from HR. She don't do cases like this. Sam's with Kam and you know that. Densi... I mean Deeks and Kensi are somewhere in the Wyoming bush-bush. The only ones to share with is you, and Nell, Hidoko and Mosley. But they're not in here, yet."

Callen leaned back in his chair now. "So any mail with any anomalies is now meant for me, you mean?" he smirked.

Eric, however, shook his head. "This one is different, Callen. It's meant for you. It was addressed to you. It really is and you need to look at it." Again he took the ballpoint and started air-drumming it.

It was irritating. And so, Callen got up and he reached the computer before Eric even entered his own work space.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Lewis Baker. The name didn't ring any bells at all. The message however was worrying indeed, Callen agreed on that. Somehow, it was addressed to G. Callen, but without the exact mail address it disappeared in the spam box.

"So, this came in when?" he wanted to know.

"Two hours ago. I noticed it later, minutes before I discussed the matter with you."

"You didn't discuss it. You came and told me. This is serious, Eric. Probably no spamming or spoofing, right? Tell me, what you know about this summer camps?"

For a few seconds, Eric wondered if Callen was just fooling him. But then, he realized that the older agent had quite a different youth than he himself ever had. "Parents send their kids in there, since school holidays tend to last weeks longer than the summer holidays the parents have. So, as a parent, you go and look which kind of summer camp fits best with your child's capabilities, hobbies and so on. You'll have to trust the staff completely. And well, sometimes they're just young too. Like high-school graduates or college kids, that young."

Callen just nodded, still leaning against the large table and trying to gather his thoughts. "Any chance you can learn more about this guy Baker? Age, for example, and if it is him who actually is trying to tell me what, or if he is sending this message on behalf of someone else. I mean… that would make more sense, right? So if you—"

"Anything," Eric understood. "It should only take a minute Callen."  
He copied and pasted the name that appeared in the e-mail address as well, watched his screen and then he said "et voilà." Another few taps and the information he looked for was put on the screen.  
"Baker is volunteering at this acting and drama classes for kids aged 10 to 12." A short pause from Eric, who then continued "He's 21. A wanna-be actor."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "There's no other way in communicating with him, or the director of this summer school?"

Eric just looked up, adjusted his glasses in a nervous way and shook his head, again. "Nothing. No other way."

"Well then…" Callen sighed deeply, having made his decision already. "I guess there's no other way but going in there, right?" He now put his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "Give me another fifteen minutes, Eric, to take what I think I may need. Ear wigs. Burn phone. Things like that. Meanwhile, see if you can reach Nell. Get a SWAT team ready as a back-up team, and do inform Mosley, will ya?"

The technical analyst's eyes widened and he swallowed several times. "But… but you can't do that, go in there. Dzjee."

"Eric," Callen said. "Listen, Eric. What choice do I have? Too many lives are at stake in there. And someone in there knows what I'm doing. Right now, there's no time for me to find out who. But you, you can. And I trust you to do that." He laid his hand on Eric's shoulder. "This is what we do, right?"

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Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**\- chapter 2 –**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

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A/N Thanks for the reviews you've left on the shortest of what I came up with. Too bad I cannot respond to the guests separately, but let me say that I really would love to see more episodes written for Callen and Eric more.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Interstate 10**

He drove his grey Mercedes on Santa Monica Highway in the direction of La Brea Avenue and called in once again. "Eric, talk to me. Anything new?"

-"Not really. I'm going to ask Mosley to contact the director of this organization."  
It was quiet on the other side of the line and so Eric went on. "LAPD should be around by now. Just in case. They won't intervene though." He paused a short second and added "I still don't know who's behind this, Callen. Found this Baker's parents, who live somewhere near Ventura. Called them. They never even heard their son talk about taking this summer job. Gave me a phone number though and I called him but—"

"He didn't answer," Callen uttered his thoughts.

Eric shook his head. "He didn't."

"Yet he was in touch earlier, hence the e-mail. It proves he knows my name. The place I work. And made the threats. You still believe that?"

-"But it was his phone, Callen."

"You think it were his words too? Might want to work on that thing too, Beale. Better have all those systems running as fast as they can."

Eric turned to his screens and nodded, although Callen wouldn't notice. From the corner of the eye he noted how the GPS from the team lead's phone was still another five minutes from the destination Callen was heading to and so he said "This movie theatre is an old one. Charlie Chaplin had it built about a century ago and the Muppet Show was recorded in there too. This organization, Love-U-LA, uses it two full days this week for their summer school."

"Need to know information, Eric?"

-"No. Just saying. I... You need to focus. I get it. It's just that 'till now there's no-one to share with —" he paused, since the sliding doors of the Ops center opened and Nell and Mosley both entered. "Nell's here now, and Mosley."

"I get it. Sit-rep asap, deal?" Callen offered and asked at the same time and he closed the call after a confirming 'uh-huh' from the Tech Operator.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Ops Center**

Her hands on her hips, Executive Assistant Director Shay Mosley stood and faced the younger man. "Nell's here now, and Mosley," she repeated Eric's words. "Tell me Beale, who were you talking to and why did you mention this?"

Eric tilted his head in various positions, thinking how to reply in only a few sentences. "Callen. He's on his way – nearly arrived – at what we assume is a hostage situation."

Mosley nodded. "Who's around as his back up?"

"Uhm... none of our own people as a matter of fact. But LAPD should be around too by now."

"What the hell is he thinking? Get him on the line for me, Eric."

Nell interrupted. "Callen must have had a pretty good reason to do what he's doing, right, Eric?"

"Yes. You see, there's this —"

Mosley shook her head. "Get HIM on the line, Beale. Now."

He blushed, this time because he felt rather uncertain with Mosley ordering around. But then, there hardly was any choice, so he made another connection with Callen and put the phone on speaker.

\- "Eric? What you have?" Callen said.

"This is Mosley speaking, agent Callen. Now, before you start to explain, you listen to this. As your superior I order you to abort your mission. There's no way I'll allow you to go along with any case which I have not authorized. Not like this, not the way you seem to have made your own decision without discussing this with me first."

It was silent for a few seconds and even Nell and Eric kept their breaths. Then Callen's voice sounded again. "Eric will explain. There's no way to stop this, not now. I'll discuss this when… if it's all over."  
He simply cut the call and focused on the situation in front of him.

Two black-and-white police cars were parked in front of what was one of the older buildings in the neighborhood.

He slowed down, came to a stop and parked his car right behind the second police car. Then he took a deep and slow breath, feeling the adrenaline in his veins already and he knew he would do whatever it took.

He tapped at the side window while showing his badge and once the officer opened the window, Callen said "Special Agent Callen, NCIS. Have you noticed anything unusual so far? Any strange sounds from the inside? Other anomalies? Have had any questions about you being around?"

The officer shook his head. "None whatsoever. Seen nobody. You sure we need to stick around?"

Putting his badge back into the pocket of his jeans, he just shrugged. "You stay in here, right until someone comes around with a higher rank and tells you to do differently."  
Then, he straightened his back, went back to his car and took the bulletproof vest from the backseat. He took off the dark blue coat and instead, pulled the vest over the grey shirt he wore. He checked his gun and ammo and adjusted the earwigs. Then he simply tried it, by tapping it twice and asking the techs at Ops if they heard him. There was one short and affirmative 'yes' coming from Nell.

Again, Callen took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a couple of minutes. Blinking twice after that, he started walking towards the first door he noticed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Ops Center, minutes earlier**

"How dares he!" Mosley ranted.

"Like I said before, there's this," Eric felt like trying to explain once again. He tapped his keyboard and four separate screens opened in front of them. Then he swiveled his chair again and turned to both women. "An e-mail, coming from the account of a young man called Lewis Baker. Addressed to Callen."

Mosley just raised her brows and said nothing, obviously just waiting for him to continue.

Nell, on the other hand, asked "Somebody he knows?"

Eric shook his head. "We checked. It's not the name, Callen figured. It's the message. The threats in it to a group of children."

"Someone who knows he works here. His name, and what his standing is in here, with NCIS," Mosley saw. "Anyone you found out about?"

"Nothing on nobody."

"Work on it," Mosley said.

"As if we don't know that. We've already been doing that, I mean, it's what Callen and I were doing already. Before, the past few hours. It's what I tried to explain." It came out harsher than Eric wanted to but he didn't really care.

"And where is he now? You know where Callen's headed to?"

"These music and movie studios," Eric pointed out on the map. Next to the street plan, some pictures appeared as well. "So far I haven't been able to reach any of the organizing party for this summer camp yet, so I hope you can take care of that," Eric said, now to Nell.  
"The building itself has three entrances. It's old on the outside, and inside there are over ten soundproof rooms. All in all, I… we don't know who or what we're facing," he concluded.

Nell let her fingers go through her loose hair and watched the screens as she let her partners message sink in. "But still he decided to go there all alone. What can we do for him?"

A deep sigh came from their temporary leader. "I... well, I suggest you let me work on that, Jones, Beale."

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 _Indeed, another chapter which isn't too long. I sure look forward to your reactions!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	3. Chapter 3

**\- chapter 3 -**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

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A/N I sure hope you'll like this chapter like the previous one. Thanks for leaving your reviews, Maria Luisa Illarnizzi, F4llon, LostForeverInHisEyes, n4d1n3, Guest, French Fan, JaniceS, Amjm, wotumba1, countrygirluk56, BlackBear53 and Linda Wigington!

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Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"So..." Nell started.

Eric shook his head. "I really don't know, Nell. She's not that reasonable. You think she's right?"

She shrugged and chewed the inside of her lip. "She's got a point in there, Eric. Callen shouldn't have gone in there all alone."

"Oh, but he needed to," Eric said. "You'll agree once you see what was written. It's not like what Sam says 'bout him going lone wolf or something like that."  
He enlarged the text which was sent earlier and Nell read, meanwhile commenting what she thought.

"So if Callen's never heard of this young guy Baker, how come he mentions 'their mutual acquaintances' and a mutual experience during their past?" She continued. "Like he, or she or they, state in here as well 'the only one we'll allow in is you, special agent G. And we will know it is you'."

Eric nodded. "It's what worried me most. I mean, it's not fair. We don't know who he's facing, but they know the other way around."

"It sounds like some kind of revenge from the past. But from who? We will never find out. Or perhaps once it's—" she swallowed before she continued "if or when it's too late."

"It shouldn't get that far. There has to be a way... but then, in here, they say 'for every other person who's sent in, a child will pay with their lives.' That hit him hard, Nell."

Both fell silent, trying to think of something which might help. "We've got that small journal though. Mosley won't know it. You know, with every single one of the 37 addresses Callen has stayed on during his youth. Maybe there's something in there, something we can use?" Nell was on her feet already, glad that there might be the tiniest possibilities they'd see something useful.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue **

Maybe coming in all armed wasn't a wise decision, Callen now thought. But did it matter right now? He figured he'd meet with someone who expected him to be armed, since it was clear he, or they, knew his profession. Armed people too, from what he resumed of the text Eric showed him earlier that morning.

He hated the feeling of walking into a situation like this - not knowing what he'd find and this time, without Sam or Kensi and Deeks around.

Right before he was to open the door, he tapped the tiny microphone and spoke aloud "I'm going in". He knew that Eric and Nell would hear him and that they would try to understand what was going on, even with a one-side monologue coming from him.  
Again, he took a deep breath and took his gun just to be ready anyway. It felt like the only steady companion he had right now.

When he opened the door, there was only the dim light of a long corridor he met, just until there was an uneasy and anxious male voice which came from near him. "You're Callen?"

"Yes. Special agent Callen, NCIS. And you must be Lewis Baker."

It was just a wild guess, but there was a confirmative nod, he saw. His eyes had adjusted to the light by now and Callen noticed the fear on the lanky and young man's face. He was unarmed and probably forced to do what he did right now.  
"You're okay, Lewis?" he asked.

A light shrug before the reply came after another quick inhale of breath and again, in a too small voice for the age and posture of the young man. "I —no, actually I am not, not... I don't know. Why do they do this? Why me, why here... and why us?"

It made Callen feel guilty. Why them? Could this be all because of him? No way he knew. All he knew for sure, from experience and from his gut feeling, was that this day might bring only more questions and stress for this young man, like there would be for himself as well.  
For the time being he could not answer the young man. He just shook his head. "Baker," he said, "I don't know. Can you tell me who I'm dealing with?"

The other man looked around in fear, and his reply came as a whisper "Three men. I… perhaps with six or seven guns, I think. Small ones, and those long ones you see in movies". A young man, the pimples still visible in the pale face that even became paler.

"It's not your fault, Baker. You're just at the wrong place at the wrong time", Callen said. "Please, just do what they want you to do. How did they force you to lead me the way?"

"They've got Jeanny."

Definitely someone who meant a lot to the young man. "Then you show me the way."  
They walked along the corridor and Callen asked "So this the only way out too?" He knew Eric would pick up his words. Just in case they would be necessary.

This time, Lewis Baker just nodded as a reply and three doors later, he knocked on the door five times. Then it was opened, from the inside.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

Minutes later, Nell skimmed the pages of the small journal she'd only scanned once before. Nothing really stood out and she wondered if this was the only and best option they had right now. She put the small journal away and sighed "It may just as well be about another past".

"True. Not necessarily his youth. And even if it was, how would we know? There aren't any real clues."

"What do we do in the meantime, Eric? I mean... What if this ends up as a school shooting?" Nell wanted to know.

"Maybe it is what Callen fears too. Especially with kids involved," Eric said. "If this message hadn't mentioned his past I guess he would've waited for another kind of back-up. Perhaps tried to negotiate. But now..." He fell silent, once again.

"But there's LAPD around, right? How many?"

"Two cars. Four officers. Callen wanted me to arrange a Swat unit to be around as well, though. Just in case."

Her usual bright face was all seriousness right now and she nodded. "Any idea about their time of arrival?"

"Another 45 minutes, Jones." Mosley stood behind them and filled in the response.

His eyes widened in surprise and Eric exclaimed "Thát long? Really!"

"Indeed, Beale. They are going to group first, then they will have to have their briefing. They also demanded someone to be around and make the ultimate decision for them to but in."

"Seriously?!" Nell now said.

Mosley nodded and watched them both. "Since the only thing you've come up with is this discussion I just overheard, I suggest you head over to La Brea Avenue as well, agent Jones. Be around and be the one to give the final order on behalf of NCIS. Meanwhile Beale should be able to handle the situation in here, in the meantime."

The 'but's' came in unison and it didn't really shock Mosley. She'd seen them work together, knew they functioned like a perfect team of two. This time, it needed to be different since she needed her own NCIS people to be everywhere. However, the three were all she had right now.

She raised her arm in a way that left no rebuttal. Then she exhaled loudly and in a more gentle voice, she added "I understand the urge you two have to work together, and it would be a great option indeed. But only with everyone else around. Right now I feel we're on a tight time schedule and so I choose for a 'Divide et impera'.

Eric understood. "If you think it's best…"

Mosley nodded. "The original blueprints of the building should be easy for you to find, Beale. Please check every single entrance. Escape doors too." She paused a short few seconds, then said "Just to let you know, I contacted Hetty and asked her if she had any clues about Callen's mutual connections from the past which were mentioned."

"Well, did she?" asked Nell.

Mosley slowly shook her head. "Not really. Or like she stated 'far too many to investigate right now'. She refused to mention any names though."

It caused a short and unusual grim smile on the young female analyst slash junior field agent. "Well then, I'd better get prepared to get going."

"One more thing, Jones," Mosley said. "I also contacted the organization, Love-U-LA. They're using this theatre for only a couple of classes. The other part of this particular summer school is in Hollywood High School, only half a mile up north. It may be worthwhile to go in so to say for another class. I'll brief you while you're on your way."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue **

The first thing Callen noticed were the faces of at least twenty young children. Children who should be happy, dancing, laughing, gamboling until somebody told them to quiet down. Acting perhaps.  
Children like how Sam's daughter Kamran used to be only some years ago, and Callen remembered her enthusiasm and spirit. That's how it should be.  
Not those kids. They just sat on the floor, their tiny backs leaning against the stage. Scared faces. Some with teary eyes, definitely afraid of what would happen next.

And all because someone decided that those kids may just as well be used as a means to get him around?

Instead of the previous anxiety, all Callen felt by now was rage. Pure rage, which he needed to control.

From the shadows, near the door which was closed after he and Baker entered, a voice which he did not recognize sounded. "Still wanting to protect the little ones, are you, Callen?"

It didn't matter that he did not know who he was dealing with. 'The little ones'; it probably was referring to the times he spent in the orphanages. He hoped Eric and Nell would pick his words up too. "Hollygrove home, Allingham street — which one was it?"

A short huff came as a reply this time.

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 _Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

**chapter 4**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

A/N All who read the previous chapter and who left a review: thank you! I hope you will still be wanting to know more. Due to busy times, long summer nights and a little lack of inspiration, it took a while to come up with this chapter. As ever, I'm using any names I made up. So any resemblance with actual persons are purely coincidental. .

 _Kni®benrots_

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue **

There was no real or clear answer, but it made him think it might have something to do with the early childhood care centers where he had had to live since there was no other place to live. Still, there was no need to stir up anything he didn't plan.

"Never mind," Callen mentioned as calm as he could. "Now I'm here, I think you should let those kids go."

The sound of unlocking the safety mechanism of a handgun was something he would always recognize. And above anything else, he wanted to prevent any violence at all. The idea of any of those scared kids getting hurt really frightened him. He raised his arms and said "all right, all right, forget I even mentioned it."

For a few silent seconds nothing happened, then one of the children started to cry.

"Oh, you just shut up!" Another man shouted now , which made it two male voices. The young leader of this summer holiday group had informed him that there were three men but so far, none of the voices or the vague features looked or sounded familiar though.

Callen didn't know how, but he did know it was time to distract the attention from the children and even more to himself, before any accidents took place. And he had to do it without offending those man.  
"Listen, the three of you asked me to come around, in which case you would not harm any of these kids in here. Now here I am. You may just as well tell me what you want from me."

A dark haired man came closer. Two fighting Dragons, one in green and the other one in red, marked his right arm. It seemed as if though they were crawling from underneath the short sleeves of his shirt. Now he was closer, Callen noticed that next to the other man's right eye, there were two tattooed drops. Callen expected this guy was more or less a weapon himself. There was no expression in his empty, nearly black eyes.

Callen knew he was tempting the grownups, as long as the attention was drawn away from the scared girls and boys. "Well?" he tried again.

"Pull off the vest, and put it on the chair which is immediately behind you. Together with your gun and any communication devices you carry." The words came out like a robot, just as emotionless.

He shrugged, had expected all this and so he tore the Velcro tape loose and pulled the vest over his head. Then, slowly and completely visible, he took his gun and phone and put it on a tip-up chair behind him.  
Then he turned towards the man who gave this order and raised his hands again. "There you go. So now, how about you let half of the group go, for example all the seven boys, together with the leader called Jeanny? It may help to persuade me to do what you want, whatever it may be."

"All of your communication devices, we said!"

This order came from someone whose voice Callen did recognize and he only just was able to mention it aloud and more surprised than he wanted to. 'Paul!?'

Whatever went on behind him, it came as a sudden action which he didn't expect either.

A sideward kick against his knee made him go down to the floor, and the expressionless man kicked again. This time he aimed for his head and although Callen was able to reach for the foot with his hands and tried to avoid the kick, the impact was still there and he was dazed too long to make it a serious fight. He heard words like 'ears' and 'shirt' and 'button'.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

Eric was making mental notes for a while, then decided to take a note pad and jotted down things he heard. He heard Callen name two orphanages and something about three men.

"They're forcing him to get rid of gun, vest, phone," he mentioned aloud although Nell wasn't sitting next to him. He reckoned she'd be listening to everything Callen was saying as well, but only later, for the reports.  
Playing with a ballpoint once again, he was just concentrating until he heard what he did not want to hear and he took the phone immediately.

"We've lost contact, Nell."

-"You mean..."

"Like he said, Jones. Beale in here mentioned a lot but until now, your co-worker has not been able to find out anything useful." Mosley's words, coming from behind him and butting into his words as well as pressing the conference call button of this same phone.

Eric continued, not really impressed by his boss' words. "There was some kind of fight and I picked up a name, Paul. After that, some groans and then, nothing."

Nell understood. "And now?"

Eric looked at Mosley, while she kept staring at the screens. He then felt the urge to explain. "These are the blue prints of the building. Two ordinary ways in, although only one is in use nowadays. One long corridor with several small studios and two larger theatre stages. I suppose they're in one of those, based on Callen's words when he entered the place with Baker." He pointed to the two rooms while talking. "Two leaders, of whom Lewis Baker is one. The other one is his girlfriend I suppose, a woman called Jeanny."

Mosley nodded. From what I heard her name is Jeanny O'Neill, eighteen years old, from Malibu. Her parents already are informed."

"Callen also mentioned seven boys." Eric said.

Again, Mosley confirmed it. "Love-U-LA say there're seven boys, nine girls in this particular group."

-"Which makes eighteen young people and Callen being held in here," Nell said. "Three captors."

"At least seven guns, including Callen's. And of which I think there are some automatics too." Eric read from his notes.

-"There should be a way of getting in without any chances of casualties," Nell pondered.

"Leave that to the SWAT team itself, Jones," Mosley said. "By the way, have they arrived already?"

-She shook her head. "Still nothing. They should be here soon, right?"

"Indeed, Jones. Remember, in there, you are just the liaison. May I remind you to contact me as soon as they arrive?"

All Nell could do was to confirm that.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue**

Still weaker and more hurt after the sudden attack, he found himself sitting on a wooden chair, dressed in his t-shirt and jeans only.

Paul…Of course Paul Angelo had known what to look for. After all he'd worked for NCIS long enough to use the same items like the earwigs and the smallest microphones.  
Angelo... where had he gone after he went rogue? Actually Callen did not have a clue. He remembered some details of the single case during which he'd met Paul Angelo. It had never been friendly at all, not even after they'd done everything to keep him safe. Angelo already had different plans and he had betrayed Callen and his team within the blink of an eye.  
And now he was back... but from where? And above all, why?

More children were crying now and the only man who talked about a past acted nervously by now. "Stop whining!" he shouted.

This time, the young female leader started talking. She was far too young but as far as Callen observed, someone who was loving to coach these children and would try to do anything to protect them as well. "You're scaring these kids. Why? Why don't you let them go?"

"Shut up!"

"Don't yell like that at Jeanny", Lewis Baker now pleaded. It cost him a serious slap in his face, and now even more children were disquieted.

Things might be quickly getting out of control and Callen considered what his best option would be.  
By now, Eric should have warned the SWAT team for sure. His own concern was to keep those children safe. He wriggled his cuffed hands in a position which was far from comfortable until he reached one of the smallest items which always remained unseen; one of the two hair-pins which had saved him before, in the past when Sam and he had been captured by a militia group. He clipped them onto his jeans without thinking nowadays.

He wriggled and fidgeted until he finally felt how the pin got the grip and he was able to unlock the cuff. Still, he remained seated and started to talk.

"Wanna tell me, Paul, what it is you want from me? And who you brought with you as your company?"

"Why ask Paul? Afraid to talk to me, G-man?"

Callen shook his head. He still didn't recognize this man nor his voice. But G-man... He'd been called like that during his stay on the streets of Los Angeles. Had it been months before he'd been picked up by LAPD and was saved by Hetty? He reckoned it was during that period indeed.  
"Not afraid of your story at all. So… you wanna tell me more?"

"Could tell you a lot. So, you're still with your surrogate mommy?"

Someone who knew about Hetty. It struck him. Paul knew Hetty — he understood. But now there was this guy who mentioned Hetty as well. Callen tried to shrug, but was aware of the fact he had to make believe he was still cuffed and so he simply groaned aloud.

Again, he had the feeling it would work. Keep the men talking, eager to tell him about the why and luring their attention away from all the innocent bystanders. It worked, he hoped, and if all was going the way it should it wouldn't take long until the SWATs were around to get everyone out, without casualties. How, he did not figure out yet.

It all went wrong when one of the girls started to cry desperately "Miss? I wet my pants. Can I please go to the bathroom?"

Jeanny got up, reaching out for the young girl's hand. But before she knew, Paul hit her, the force of it made her fall back on the floor.

"Jeanny? You're okay?" Lewis Baker got up from his position once again.

He had told Baker to stay put before the two of them had entered and even now Callen felt the urge to send him a low warning. "Baker..."

Things really got in whirl. The tattooed guy took his weapon and fired a warning shot, straight up. Now some kids were screaming in fear. Jeanny got up, definitely trying to comfort them, and Baker was on his feet too. Another shot was fired and Baker was hit and dropped on the floor, crying out in pain. Children got up now and were trying to get away, causing even more panic.

He could not let this happen. In a swift move, Callen got up from his chair and used the steel handcuffs as a weapon. He swept them in the air and it hit the tattooed man straight into his face. With one yell he dropped down, reaching for his eyes. His gun dropped too and Callen grabbed within the same pace.

Before he fired it at this same guy, there was a huffing laugh of Paul Angelo.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue, outside**

The loud cracks of five gunshots reached the ears of the leader of the team of SWATs, Louis Ramirez, as well. "It's time to interfere," he told Nell.

She only nodded, thinking of what might have happened and how Callen was involved. Still, she had to remain professional and ignore any personal feelings. She knew it and it was more difficult than she ever envisioned. "Is there anything we can do to avoid coming in all armed and shooting?"

Ramirez shrugged. We've got flash grenades, smoke grenades, teargas... You name it, we've got it."

She bit her lower lip, wondering what was best. "Something like a gas to put them all asleep for just a couple of minutes?"

"Things like fentanyl, which the Russians used?" He shook his head. "Nothing that strong, not with children around. We wouldn't want to put anyone at risk with it. We dó have a light version though, sevoflurane, and it'll work for a couple of minutes only. Enough to leave everyone motionless, helpless and easy to overwhelm. Only thing is, how would you want to bring it in?"

She had to call in, but Nell wanted to avoid discussions with Mosley. She took her cellphone and calked Eric's private number.

Time was ticking and she knew it...

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading! Please do let me know if it is alright with you, so far..._


	5. Chapter 5

**chapter 5**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

A/N Thanks again for your continued support, Linda, Wotumba1, Amjm, LostForeverInHisEyes, Guest and Janice. This chapter is rather short again but I hope you won't mind.

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill. I gladly use the NCIS team for this story.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue **

Before he fired the gun he grabbed from and shot at this tattooed guy, there was a huffing laugh of Paul Angelo, who'd pointed his gun at Callen.  
"I should have known better indeed, Callen. You're different from the rest, right? That petite puppeteer never stopped bragging about your abilities, did you know?"  
Angelo didn't wait for any explanations, but continued to talk. "Do you have any idea how it is for any of the other agents in this stupid agency of yours or even others? There's always 'G. Callen, the ghost', or 'the legend', to be compared with."

Callen decided not to respond. In fact, he didn't have a clue what Paul was talking about, or that his career was something that bothered anyone at all. Nor that he would know how it felt. He was just doing what he did, together with the ones he worked with.

"That same little lady who got you out of the hands of the cops, far from juvie and took you straight in, protected you from getting arrested again?" the other man huffed. "I don't know why she did that. Have you ever told her what you've done to get arrested for at all? And how come you never shared the fate of, or cared about the others of the gang, how come you never even came and look for us again?"

Indeed. It must have been someone whom he'd known in one of the last places he stayed in. Still, he didn't recognize this guy. One of the gang… It never was something to be proud of. Robbing some stuff from shops and reselling it in the streets, and carjacking too.

"She always protected you, right? She will do so now. Consider this a test. A show. I bet she has a team, probably your team, outside. Waiting to bust in. But for every step they come closer, a bullet per child is what they'll get."

He shook his head. "But she... Hetty won't know. She doesn't work any longer."

"You're so funny, Callen. Trying to protect her, and those children. You really think we believe it?"

They had to. Was there a way to prove it?

"G-man... look."

Thunderstruck he now stood, practically unable to move. Did he really see how this guy deliberately shot his gun at one of the young girls who stood this close to him?

He forgot to breath in. Forgot his training. All he saw were the large brown eyes of the girl in the pale blue dress. He noticed how her dark blond hair curled along her face. Callen registered her name tag. Macy, she'd written her name on it herself and drawn hearts and flowers around it. But above all, he noticed how the dark stain where the bullet hit her, growing larger and larger. The silent gasp of this girl.  
All he could do was watch.  
All seemed to go in slow motion.  
All.

"You..." he swallowed, sick from processing what he witnessed. "Bastards. Why do this to her? She's innocent. What did she do to you?"

Callen kneeled beside the young girl, not waiting for the response of these two men. He needed both hands to put as much pressure as possible to stop the bleeding, and all he could do was hope for the best.  
"Macy?" He read the pain and fear in her eyes. "Macy, listen." He had to grab her attention now. "I heard..." he looked around, saw the female leader in about the same position he was right now, taking care of Baker. He wondered how this situation would end. Again, he focused on this young girl. "Jeanny in there told me you were doing wonderful on stage."  
He didn't really know, but he had to keep the girl awake. Alive. "Macy? I'll... let's tell your mom too, okay?"

Her eyes started rolling back and Callen was afraid she wouldn't make it.

He looked up and knew he never had his emotions under control. "Paul... why?"

"I hate you all, Callen. Your perfect little team of super agents. But I hate you and Hetty most. You have it all, everything you are is what I should be."

Even the words Paul Angelo spoke weren't really reaching his brain. Still, it made him think. Did he hear Paul saying this? That he, Callen, had it all? Did Paul really know what he was talking about?

"Frankie knew you'd be unable to resist a call when kids were involved. And I know how this is going to hurt poor Hetty".

Of course. The words sank in so slow and while he still had his eyes fixed on the young girl.

"But... what?"

Callen didn't have a real chance to ask. He only noticed the gun Angelo held. It was raised his way and there was no real chance to dodge from the bullet that came his way. Somehow he managed to duck, but far too slow though to get away from it completely. The bullet hit him high enough, but never lethal, he knew.  
All he could think of was that Paul shot him. Him – unarmed, while he was trying to save the life of a girl. A young girl, innocent and shot, just because.

"I had other plans but well, you forced me to do this. I'll meet your precious Hetty, mourning, at the morgue or at the hospital."

He saw the hatred in Paul Angelo's dark brown eyes and expected another shot. Instead, there were noises from above and after a few curses, Angelo stepped back. Out of Callen's sight.

Callen groaned in agony. He felt Macy's gaze, he felt her fear more than this own pain. Pressed her wound again.

Why did he start to feel so weak, so sleepy? "Macy? Please stay... stay awake. Please?"

His arms started feeling rubbery and he was losing strength. Gas, he figured.  
He wasn't alone in this matter— his unfocused eyes registered how the children were going down, one by one. To him, it didn't really matter. He wanted not to feel, for the time being.

Besides, there was no way to fight the lightheadedness and sleepiness and Callen simply gave up fighting.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"Beale. Is there any news from your co-worker yet?"

Eric shook his head. He simply felt and knew how his face reddened. But then, he wasn't lying so he confirmed his shake of the head. "No, not yet, ma'am executive assistant director."

"No need to be this formal, Beale. Relax. Will and can you try to reach agent Jones for me?"

"Ehm... I will, but... but are you sure about that?" He started stammering and he knew it. "What if she — Nell could be busy, you know."

Mosley's gaze was literally chilling him to the bone right now and so Eric simply did what she asked him to.

Nell's phone rang twice, three times and after the fourth time Eric started to feel uncomfortable. He shook his head.  
"There must be a reason why she doesn't answer it. Like, perhaps there was no time to communicate but an immediate action was required."

"You think so?"  
The raised brows made him realize Mosley doubted his words and so Eric added "I know Nell, ma'am. Know her longer than today. She'd see who's calling and I am pretty sure she'd answer, or call back the minute she can." He paused a second and repeated his words. "I know Nell..."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue, outside**

She watched in awe as two heavily armed and uniformed men were up on the roof in matters of seconds. They lifted a hatch to what she knew gave access to the air-conditioning system. Then, they both took two vials and simply dropped them inside.

Nell bit her lip, then she finally asked Ramirez "Isn't it too much? I mean… Are you sure it is not too heavy for these kids?"

The man shrugged and replied rather dryly "Actually I don't know, since we've never tried before. Not in a situation like this."

He sent her an encouraging smile and motioned to the many vans with blinded windows. There were ambulances waiting too, their flashing lights still drawing the attention of anyone around. Still, what would happen outside would be kept from the public, since some of the men put up a higher screen as a barrier.  
"You'd better make your call to your office, agent Jones, and let your boss know we're going in. In two minutes from now, to be exact. No delay. Our men will get everyone out."

She nodded. It surprised her that despite everything that went on she still felt calm enough to have a conversation like this. To make decisions after several scenarios were discussed. She didn't have to go in and find out herself what had happened inside. Then, why did her heart skipped some beats after all when she thought about the team leader? All of them knew Callen was inside, and that whoever was behind this all, had wanted him inside. What if… No, she needed to do what was asked from her, and right now it meant she had to call Mosley, to explain and to wait.  
Nell took her phone, hesitated for a second. An incoming call surprised her for another second. When it stopped, she noticed it had been the office. She gathered some courage and made the call. "Mosley? This is Nell in here. I called to let you know we, well, the SWATs, will go in. Right now."

-"I think you may remember to call in before a decision like this was to be made, agent Jones."

It sounded so strict and Nell inhaled deeply. She chose her words carefully. "You are right about that. We need immediate action though, since five gunshots were registered from the inside. With all those children involved, we made the decision to interfere without any time-lag, ma'am."

She tried to ignore the pause coming from Mosley, more or less afraid there were more harsh orders coming from the city's NCIS executive director in charge. Instead, she heard a 'very well' on the other side of the line.

-"Please do inform me as soon as you know more, Jones. There are too many rumors going round in town, and the press is already circling around like vultures. Even worse, the major has been asking questions. This means I'll need facts, as soon as possible. So I suggest SITREPS coming in from your side every five minutes."

Nell understood. In a situation like Mosley's she'd want that too. "Will do so, Mosley," she said. Then she disconnected and the long wait started.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. I'd be happy when you share your thoughts on this story so far too!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

 _A/N Thanks for all the reviews you've left so far, and also for all of your patience. I had wanted to publish some new chapters while on vacation, but all I got was terrible WIFI. So, I did write, and now I'm back, all I had to do was copy, paste and redact. I would be happy when you share your thoughts on this story so far too!_

 _Kni®benrots_

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Hollywood, North La Brea Avenue**

She hadn't expected it would all go so fast. Six men were armed and wearing gas masks already. With care they studied the entrance door for boobytraps and when they discovered none, the lock was broken seconds after. All of them went in even before Nell had ended the call with Mosley and with Ramirez still standing next to her.

The two men who had been up on the roof went down in minutes. Instead of putting on gas masks, they removed the hinges and the doors themselves as well, which made the entrance wider. From the outside they spotted if there'd be more windows or escape doors to be opened or broken.

"For fresh air, and oxygen?" She asked.

A short nod came as a response. Ramirez was checking his watch in the same time. He counted inwardly until he figured it was enough and ordered "Smith, DuPont, ready… here, now."

Both men switched their positions, and Ramirez then raised his hand to both the van drivers and the paramedics, motioning the first teams to get ready. Indeed, half a minute later, the first three men exited the corridors, each carrying a young child and carefully put them down on the ground.  
A small tank with what Nell figured was more oxygen was brought over and masks were put on each child.

Physically they would be alright, she could see that.

Two men went back in immediately after, the third lifted his mask and said "at least four of them are wounded. Most probable is that they were shot. One of the grownups may have died. One child is severely bleeding, two more adults wounded. We'll need medics in here, and we'll bring them out first."

Nell swallowed. No, she shouldn't even try to think any further. What if...

"Ma'am? Your coworker was awake already and he left the building."

She let her gaze go over the building. So Callen left? Her relief won for some milliseconds over the fear, then doubt set in. "He left?"  
It was so unlike him; with all those innocent kids around. He should be helping.

"How do you know?" she then asked.

The other man turned away from her already, but sent a short smile. "NCIS on a bulletproof vest, just like yours. He opened on of the doors from within. It really helps, you know."

Then he put back the gas mask and went back in, meanwhile making way for his fellows who brought out more kids out now.

Nell knew she needed to call in already, and she dialed the number while she gratefully noticed how six children were guided to the first van. All of them on their own feet, but with the necessary support, just in case.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She now concentrated more on the phone call that Mosley had insisted on. After the short introduction she said "it's been confirmed that four people were shot, on presumably deceased."

- _"Agent Callen?"_

"Don't know what happened," Nell replied. "One of the men mentioned an NCIS agent who left the building from the side entrances, but—"

-" _Good to hear_ ," Mosley interrupted.

Again Nell shook her head which made her ponytail sway from one side to the other. "I don't know, I mean, it doesn't sound like Callen."  
There, she said it. She didn't know whether or not Mosley would share her doubt and so she added "Perhaps Eric can check for cameras in the neighborhood?"

-" _Beale in here is checking on files from agent Callen's cold cases. Which are quite a few as you will know. So I suggest you ask Ramirez to keep you informed about any victims. It seems to me everyone should be out already or you would have checked for yourself, right?"_

Nell mumbled something about all the precautions which had been taken. Just in case their temporary boss - at least, Nell presumed the other woman had other aspirations than to stay in LA - would disapprove on the way they'd entered the building.  
"I'll keep in touch," she finally said. Then she pressed the red phone icon.

Looking around, she was happy to see so many children being transported away. Away from what should have been one of the most special days of their week. Instead it had become a disaster. Sixteen kids who may each have their individual nightmares.

She was tapped on her shoulder. Ramirez.

"First two are out. I'm afraid one is dead already, as we expected earlier. One of the adults indeed. And we have a young girl," he motioned to where a medical team were blocking Nell's view as they were working in collaboration without noticing the outside world.

"Is it bad?" Nell wanted to know.

Ramirez nodded. "Very bad. Critical, so I was told."  
He shrugged and heaved a deep sigh. "Something you never get used to. Especially when you're a parent yourself."

Nell fell silent for a beat. She had no clue about situations like that, since she was no mother herself. But she hardly was an experienced agent herself either and she had never been in a situation like this before. It made her feel nauseous right now and although it was a cliché, she said "Let's pray she'll be okay."

Next, she heard a female voice pleading to one of the EMT's that her friend needed to be saved first.  
Nell raised her brows in a non-asked question.

"The leaders of the kids. Obviously the male was shot too. Maybe in a heroic situation, maybe not. You know, whatever went on in here, each and every one will have an own story to tell."

Before Nell could reply, the younger woman started to yell "He did it, he shot, he is one of them!"

She kept pointing to a man who walked out with the last two kids an three members of the SWAT team.

It was an easy situation to persuade the man she meant to join two police officers.

Then, the last gurney was carried out and this time Nell hurried to it. "Callen? Callen!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || UCLA Medical Center**

Nell had followed the ambulance to the nearest hospital, after she had informed Mosley and Eric.

A short hour later, the wait for more information was over. A female surgeon approached Nell.

"You're related to George Carver?"

Nell nodded as she'd called him in with this alias, which would be better than using his real name. She introduced herself. "Nell Jones, his uhm, his co-worker."

"Jenkins," the surgeon said. Her scrubs were definitely worn longer than an early shift only and the woman looked just as worn out herself. She nodded and continued "About your co-worker? He will be doing fine. The impact of the bullet that hit him was less than we expected. We've made a chest X-ray, just to be sure. Only some smaller vessels were hit. He lost a lot of blood, but there are perfect solutions to solve that. So all in all, your friend was lucky. Very lucky I must say."

Nell shrugged and shook her head. "I wouldn't call being shot 'lucky', to be honest."

A curt smile appeared on the other woman's face. "He's faced worse situations. The scars on his upper body showed."

Nell nodded again. "And now?"

Jenkins let her gaze go over the other woman. Although Nell never said anything about their profession it was clear to the surgeon it was not to be discussed. "It will take a while before he'll be in the field again. For the moment, we decided to — well, this bullet may remain in this place, inside the bone, just as well. Removing it may cause problems of their own."

Nell frowned about the message of the surgeon. "But... how do you know it'll stay there?"

"Bones are solidly fitted in one's body, right? As long as your co-worker will keep his left shoulder inactive for some weeks it should be okay. Operating it would mean it's risky too. Perhaps we'd even have to replace the whole bone. To describe it in easy words; we would need to be break it loose from the shoulder bone. There's more risk to damage muscles, tendons, bones might fraction... And, perhaps more important, healing would take longer too."

"I think I get it," Nell said.

Jenkins added "As soon as we have concluded he's free from any fever, he'll be ready to leave late tomorrow afternoon."  
Then the surgeon rubbed her temple and, definitely tired, she offered her right hand as a greet.

Half a minute later, Nell reported to the smallest team ever at their office.

-"Before you discuss anything with agent Callen, I want to be around too. He will need to explain why he went in and whatever happened inside," Mosley said.

"But he is — I mean, I can talk to him already. You'd need about half an hour to get here," Nell argued.

-"He's a grown up. He should be able to handle a half hour or more on his own, don't you think?"

It would be useless to discuss the matter with Mosley, Nell realized. And so she disconnected the call and waited.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || UCLA Medical Center, VIP section, 9** **th** **floor**

Nell was grateful to see how Callen looked so much better than she expected. Sure, there were bandages covering his left shoulder and his right knuckle. It probably was hurt during a fight. But nothing touched his carotid artery or jugular vein. Which was good.

She had waited patiently for Mosley to arrive, and so she had asked about other people around who were involved in the situation. So, in the mean time she did had the opportunity to listen to the two leaders of the group whom she met while they were waiting for someone to have them picked up to leave.

"All they wanted was to have him to be around. Some kind of revenge or to have him to do something, I don't know," Jeanny said. "They mentioned a name too, Hetty."

Lewis Baker added "And two of the guys knew him, your friend. The third man, I don't know. Your guy managed to break loose from some handcuffs, I don't know how, but he did. All I know is... well, he took a gun. If you'd ask me, he could have overwhelmed the other two too, perhaps. But instead he was scared someone else might get hurt too — and Macy... he did everything to save her. Then all went in a blur. I don't really know what happened."

"Your friend mentioned another name. Paul. He must be of the bad guys, who talked about Hetty. And Frankie. I'm pretty sure I heard that name too."

Nell thanked them both and wished them well. She figured the organization they worked for, Love-U-LA, was offering them professional help if needed.  
Back in the waiting area she called Eric.  
"You remember anything about a certain Paul, Eric? I just found out about a Frank and a Paul. This man, Paul, mentioned Hetty."

"Angelo? Really Nell, you remember Paul Angelo. He went in deep, and although Callen and the team tried to help him out he betrayed them. All of them. Hetty just threw him out. She made sure his personnel file was deleted. We'll never know how and what she told him, but we never heard or saw about him again. Nothing."  
Eric thought about the matter for another few seconds. "But… Why now? And why Callen?"

"Try and figure it out. I'm gonna have to deal with Mosley who's wanting to hear the whole, none-redacted and unwritten file from both Callen and I."

"Hang in there Nell. She won't take no for an answer. I'll do what I can do and will keep you posted anyway, okay?" Eric said.

* * *

 _As mentioned before, please do feel free to comment on what you read and about this storyline. I'd really appreciate that!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journal** s

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A/N Thank you, LostForeverInHisEyes, Guest 1 and Guest 2, countrygirluk56, Linda Wigington, ssl71 and Wotumba1 for leaving your reviews to the previous chapter!

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || UCLA Medical Center, VIP section, 9** **th** **floor**

Like Eric had foreseen, Mosley had been nasty in wanting to hear from Callen why he had gone in, all alone. She didn't really listen and she never truly understood how in a situation like this, Callen felt the responsibility to never sacrifice anyone else's life because of him.

"You let your feelings rule instead of logic, agent Callen. No agent ought to do that, especially not a team leader," Mosley had argued. And no matter that Callen was wounded and hurting and he told her what he'd done and prove the opposite —Mosley simply didn't want to hear. However, she did more or less order written reports about Paul Angelo. Callen confirmed it was Angelo he dealt with. And Frankie, whose last name he didn't remember.

Then Mosley had wanted to hear why it had taken so long before Nell informed her about the situation inside and about wounded, and again it was as if she never wanted to hear arguments which did not fit her own ideas.

Once Mosley left, Nell rolled her eyes. "Discussing this case with her is even more difficult than working in the field."

"You bet!" Callen chuckled. Then, more seriously, he added "I'm grateful for the decision you made Nell. If any had come in, fully armed, I'm pretty sure there would've been many more kids hurt. Right now it was —"  
He bowed his head now, suddenly caught by more emotions than he wanted to show. "This girl… You know how she's doing?"

"Critical. She's in the ICU, her family's the only ones who are allowed in. They're not too sure if she'll make it."

Both were silent for a minute or so. They started speaking at the same time "Thanks…" Nell started.

"You were doing great Nell. I'm glad Mosley trusts you like she does."

"She won't say it to you, Callen, but I'm sure she thinks of you better than she's showing. I mean, I'm not blind and I certainly don't like the way she's treating you and I still don't know why she does. You were the one she trusted first, telling you about her boy and the way you offered her your help. I don't know what changed and why, but if you'd ask me, she has had trouble letting you know she's thankful for what you did."

"Sure is the worst way of showing how grateful she is, I'd say. I don't think she really fits in here. But for now, we'd better deal with it. Even if a normal conversation is out of the question, I'll try and listen between the sentences. If only she wasn't that stubborn…"

Now Nell started to giggle. "Stubborn… That's what she calls you too!"

He was going to shrug but moaned softly when the wound on his left shoulder was obvious on this movement.

"You okay?" Nell asked, worried now.

He simply nodded. "Been better, but I shouldn't complain I guess."

"I'd better go then." She hesitated a moment. "Do you want me to call Hetty, Callen, or perhaps Sam?"

"No. Not necessary, Nell. I prefer not, actually. You know how Sam is. There's no need for him to rush in, he should be with his kids, they're the ones who need him. And Hetty… no. She'd feel all guilty and besides, I'm afraid Paul will find her, anticipating on the, well, on the special relationship between the two of us. But thanks anyway, thanks again, Nell."

A broad and well-meant smile came his way and then she was gone. It left Callen with the many thoughts about the kids he saw today. Their scared faces. And he hoped above all that those kids had a place to call home, with parents who loved them and who would be able to help and chase the nightmares those children would suffer from.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Perhaps he regretted it that he didn't have the heart to share all of what he'd heard and went through. But he did remember Paul Angelo's words about Hetty, and how he figured he'd find her anyway.

He was going to leave this place as soon as possible and despite a pretty bad night he knew he would have to deal with the pain in his left shoulder. Before six in the morning, he got up to take a shower. Getting out of the hospital gown wasn't that difficult. Getting dressed, however, was a burden. The jeans he'd been wearing were far from clean, but he managed those. His shirt was ruined.  
So he pressed the call button next to his bed, and waited patiently for a nurse to enter. A quarter of an hour later, his wounds were re-dressed and the nurse offered a short sleeve button down shirt in a pale green color. He'd never chosen it for himself but it was clean and the former owner of it probably never missed it.

And despite the fact the nurse explaining how he should apply and wear a sling, and she suggested the surgeon would see him before Callen left the hospital, he was leaving the same room as soon as he could.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Boatshed || early that day**

Nell had let Callen know they had Frankie in the boatshed for interrogation.

Right outside the hospital, he'd halted a cab and gave the directions to the boatshed. Fifteen minutes later, he was where he needed to be, in his opinion.  
Before he excited the taxi he observed the surroundings. Nothing stood out. He opened the door, hoisted himself up and left the fee to pay with the driver.

Outside the boatshed, he was met by Williams, the officer on duty. Never uniformed, there'd always be someone on guard. There was only a small but friendly nod as a greet.

Inside, officer Garcia looked up when he entered and when he'd passed the small corridor he was surprised to see Eric.

It was the other way around as well but in matters of seconds it was clear that the tech was listening intensely to what was said inside.

Frankie was talking to Mosley.

Callen read some of Eric's scribbles. Frank Smith. One of the most common surnames yet he forgot it. He concentrated too now on what he saw and heard.

"He was always the weakest one of us. Callen, I mean. Scared that the other kids might get hurt."

"He's one of the best agents we have," Mosley countered.

The other man frowned, then nodded. "Paul mentioned something like that. Still, when we were younger, he was the cry-baby. That's how we knew he'd come."

Nell posed the next question. "How about Angelo and you? Where... How did the two of you meet?"

This time Smith just smiled and as he shook his head he said "No need to know. Paul has his ways to find people he wants to work with. Let's just say that Paul will find him, find Callen, again. Either by taking other kids and forcing him to come and save them. Or by finding his other weak spots. Deep down he's still vulnerable and so easy to influence."

Smith now looked straight into the camera and smiled rather cruel. "If it's not soon — the moment will come anyway."

Callen bit his low lip and suddenly felt the urge swallow away some insecurities. Was he really that easy to read?  
There were some uneasy few seconds and he simply felt the gaze of the younger technical analyst go over his slumped shoulders and his face, his eyes wider and bluer than Eric remembered.

Then it was him, Eric, who got up, clenched his jaw and — without a single explanation — just busted into the interrogation room.

"He's not weak, not scared, not vulnerable. Nothing like that at all. He's strong, wise, a great leader and someone who made sure, time after time, that this city with its inhabitants stay safe. He probably saved your miserable life too, more than once."

"Enough, Beale," Mosley said, her voice kinder now than the others were used to. "We've got this in control."

Twenty seconds later, Eric was back in the main room.

Callen blinked several times and let his hand go over his eyes several times.

"I'm... perhaps he's right, Eric. I mean, I did go in just like that. Without thinking."

Eric shook his head. "I practically sent you, remember?"

"Whatever. Frank knows how to get to me, and weaknesses or not, Paul knows... Beale, I think I'm losing it. Things've changed lately. With Mosley in and Hetty who more or less left. Deeks, well, I wouldn't be surprised if he's going to get fired. Hidoko gone forever, Michelle..." he heaved a deep sigh.

"Callen," Eric started. Then he realized he didn't quite know what to say. He too sighed but continued "I meant what I said. You're better than they say and you proved it."

He didn't add the thoughts he had. From the first start in this office, he worked with the legend G. Callen was, and Callen never failed. His decisions were the right ones and although he had been betrayed begore, it seemed that right now the hero was less certain than he remembered.  
Eric changed his stance a little and realized with a pang "You were shot and probably left the hospital before it was allowed. Why?"  
Not letting his gaze leave Callens nearly defeated posture, he noticed the dark stains in the rims of the fingernails of the other man. Dried blood, he realized. Blood from a randomly picked child that was shot, simply to punish Callen.

"Hetty. Paul figured she'd come and visit me. She mustn't know Eric. Right now she's relatively safe. Paul Angelo doesn't know where she lives and we need to keep it that way."

"Nell heard the name Paul and I've digged into the files we have on him."

"Redacted files?" Callen asked. "How about this Frank Smith, you think we can find out more about him, or the connection between those two?"

"I'd need to get to my own stuff at the office," Eric said. "But Mosley won't even notice whether I'm around or not. I could give you a ride."

"Thanks Eric, I'd appreciate that."

It was different from usual, Eric thought, with not the sharp Callen he was used to, but they'd manage, as a kind of partnership he never figured they'd could have but had right now.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS main office || an hour and a half later**

He entered her office without knocking and simply stated "We've found out Paul Angelo must've used files of other agencies, CIA for example, to find out about my past, and about Hetty's. That's how he came across Frank Smith. Who, by the way, has several prior convictions, from juvenile court to now on. Assaults, mostly conflicted to younger kids. 'Rücksichtlos', they call it in other countries."

"Agent Callen... have I asked you to inform me?" Mosley scanned the posture of the man in front of her and she wondered how he did it, go on and on, even after a terrible day he'd gone through. She added, softer now, "I just let Jones know she is in the lead in this case."

He raised his brows. "Nell? She'll be in charge?"

Mosley nodded. "You, Callen, are in no position to work this case no longer. You are on official sick leave so I've been told." She cocked her head just slightly and immediately checked her hair with her hands. She continued. "Besides, you are involved, since this is all about you, whether you like it or not. I contacted Henrietta Lange to find out what exactly happened between her and former agent Angelo. I'm just telling you — let it go and see to it you take some rest. This agency needs you sound and alert."

Callen shook his head. "No way you're calling and let Hetty come in here because of what went on. Not gonna happen. It'd be naïve to ignore Angelo's words."

"That, agent Callen, is your opinion. However, as you are well aware of, in the end I make the decisions, and it's my call. Not yours. And personally, I don't see any harm in inviting her in the office."

Callen stepped forward even more and said, as calm as he could "I explained before how Angelo wants nothing else but to punish Hetty. The only way he can find her is through me, or by checking the office, even though I told Paul she doesn't work here any longer."  
He simply stood, trying to cross his arms, but all to soon remembered it would not work with the pain in his shoulder.

"Before she'll arrive, you'll have left already agent Callen. I don't get it, what's the deal of talking to Hetty?"

"I understand that you don't understand, dammit. When éver did you even try to be as polite to ask about any of our personal lives? Even Paul Angelo understands. Or should I say 'at least' he understands? All he wants is to revenge Hetty's decision. But finding her has been the issue so far. Because Hetty doesn't want to be found. And now you're doing it - making her come here is exactly what he wants."

She stood up and leaned forward, her hands flat on the desk in front of her and her eyes spit fire. "We'll handle it my way, Callen. Thank you for your intel. Are you able to travel home on your own or should I take measures for that as well?"

He set his jaw. "I'm not disabled, thank you. But let me tell you this, assistant director Mosley, this was our mess. I'm rather sure we could've handled it in one way or another and keep Hetty safe and out of this. Instead, you decided to interfere and I can't imagine the mess you're making of this will work. At all."

Then he turned, feeling he failed and wondered how he could shake off the feeling he should do something to warn Hetty. But he refused to wait outside, just like that. He'd just inform Eric, but never, never, within the reach of Mosley's ears or eyes.

Before the first call the younger tech answered already. "Yeah, Callen?"

"I'm grabbing a cab, Eric, to Hetty's place. And no, not telling you which one. It's just... well, on case you see her first, be sure you'll keep her safe."

"Of course," Eric replied. He paused a beat and added "Callen? You stay safe too."

He hummed something back before he hung up.

Callen felt drained. Maybe Mosley was right and he should take some days off to recover properly. Still, his gut feeling told him he should be anticipating on some kind of cliffhanger.  
Still, figuring out how and what it was, was impossible.

And it sucked.

* * *

Thanks again for reading!

 _Kni®benrots_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

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A/N I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I prefer to work ahead, yet it came to a point I am not too sure where this story is heading… Well, I sure hope you'll like this chapter like the previous one. It's a shorter one indeed.  
Thanks for leaving your reviews, Mulderette, Linda Wiggington, LostForeverInHisEyes, Janice S, ssl71, countrygirluk56, Wotumba1, josephine66, Guest, n4d1n3 en Amjm

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Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || opposite of the NCIS office of special projects**

It was odd, Henrietta Lange thought, that Shay Mosley asked for her presence because of an older case. Without telling which case. She shook her head, more or less to herself. Of course she could've asked herself.

The new assistant director never required anything from Hetty before and, after all, she had access to all there was. Besides, there was Nell, with the knowledge of and access to the systems too. She hoped she left the young woman with all there was to know. And Mosley could rely on Callen.  
But then, Hetty doubted Mosley would ever turn to him for the assistance she wanted. Such a shame. Hetty had taught the senior team leader well, and his memory was accurate, faultless actually. Such a perfect team she had in here, but for herself there was no reason to stay. Things had changed during the period she'd chosen to leave the country for things that needed to be done, and once she was back, it was too awkward to continue like nothing changed. Because everything had changed, even the interactions between the team.

Deep in thoughts she drove her classic Jaguar opposite of the building she picked herself so many years before.  
Before she turned off the engine of the car, she heaved a deep sigh. She tried to shake off the feeling that something was not right.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || outside the NCIS office of special projects **

He was about to press the number he knew by heart, yet Callen wondered what he was going to tell the petite former case manager. He inhaled slowly through his nose, and looked up when he heard a car coming nearer.  
The black-and-white LAPD car halted where Callen had expected a taxi to stop, near their office. An agent got out, still wearing a bulletproof vest, and then a LAPD cop, also in the usual uniform. Callen didn't really pay attention until he heard his name being called.

"Hey, you want a ride, Callen?"

He looked up as he heard his name, grinned and shook his head. "Thanks guys, but no thanks."

"Wrong answer my friend."

From behind him he recognized the sound, and in the same second electric waves reached his body, making him stumble and fall to the ground.

"Why, hello again, agent Callen."

From his semi-paralyzed position Callen understood. His own vest. How Paul Angelo escaped from the theatre after he was shot. Angelo, who had friends everywhere. All they had done right now was try and find him. And being right here, right now, without a car of his own, made him vulnerable in being found.  
A boot came his way. No way to avoid it. It hit his shoulder, and immediately after, his stomach. Pain shot through nearly every inch of his body and he knew for sure that bones broke.

He couldn't help the scream of pain he let out. One these men didn't appreciate and the fist which took his shirt, pulled him halfway up before the other fist landed on his cheek. It made his head snap back and Callen knew from experience the skin tore with the punch. Did it matter, right now?  
He was too late, but for what?

Another attack came of what felt like hundreds of small pins entering his body. A taser. No way to fight back. He tried to concentrate on his breathing while his muscles simply refused, powerless, letting him down.

He felt how strong hands dragged him towards and into the police car.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

At first, she took it for granted.  
A LAPD car, an agent from one of the NCIS teams. An unwilling captive.  
Nothing extraordinary.  
She, Henrietta Lange, had seen scenes like this many, many times before. A scene she was about to ignore, until she realized it was not at the boathouse and having LAPD at their NCIS headquarters was weird.  
The officers around were rather hard-handed, she witnessed, and the man who was taken captive was tasered even though he wasn't really resisting any longer.  
Then, all if a sudden, she knew it.  
Everything she witnessed right now were far from how things should be. The unwilling arrested man's head lolled back after another shock went through his body and in the same minute she saw his face and gasped in disgust, a voice behind her sounded.

"Not exactly a position in which you want to see your favorite agent, right, Lange?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects, meantime **

"A-hum", Nell announced her presence in Mosley's cozy office near to the Ops room. "Ma'am?"

"Jones. Knocking may work better than humming something and next to that, I'd prefer to not have any irregular updates. So, instead of have you dropping by whenever it suits you best, I suggest we work by hourly briefings. Agreed?"

Although Shay Mosley smiled politely from behind her desk, Nell sensed the superiority and it left her staggered.

"Excuse me, what did you say? You mean you don't want me around, not even when there's any new developments from our side? Cos that's what you're saying, am I correct?"

Mosley leaned back in her chair, facing the young, annoyed hazel-eyed agent. She only nodded. "It'll work, Jones. It worked for Harley as well."

Nell shook her head, then switched to a tight nod. "I'm not Hidoko, and excuse me for saying... it's not how we do this in here."

She cocked her head just slightly and decided to leave it like this. She dropped a paper file on the desk. Then she added a small journal. "Until your next moment of update you may want to study this. You may question me later. Ma'am."

On that she left the office, not awaiting any reply.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"I really… I don't believe it, Eric. Why would she do this? She didn't even let me explain, it was just that she dismissed me. Just like that."

He pushed up his spectacles and swiveled his chair in her direction. "Nell… Let it go. All you can do is wait until she summons you back in her office. This is how she works and I suppose all we can do is get used to it. Or move on, find another job."

"That's not what I want. Not what I meant either. I mean… It was to help her understand what Callen went through and how close he and Hetty are. After all, that is what is going on, and that is how Callen figures how Paul is going to take care of the business."

Eric nodded. "He asked me to take care of Hetty, once she's in here. He's going to try and warn her beforehand." He frowned and continued "even though he's injured, he goes on and on. And I'm pretty sure he's already on his way, with several rerouting and different ways of transportations."

"He's not even allowed to drive himself, so yeah, I bet he has to be very inventive indeed," Nell said. She nodded to her best friend and took a seat behind Eric. After a short sigh, she decided that it was worthwhile to try and find out more about Paul Angelo's whereabouts of the past few years.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || outside the NCIS office of special projects **

"You may want to get in this car too, miss Lange."

It sounded as a kind invitation but then, even before she saw him, faced him, she recognized his voice and in that same seconds she knew it was bad. Beyond bad, perhaps.

"We could talk about it, Paul. About everything you want to talk about. Like civilized people. So, why don't we get in the office and see what we can do for you."

"So your man lied. Said you didn't work here no longer." He nodded to one of the uniformed men and added "From what I remember you don't want any liars around. Right?"

How was she about to think of a plausible answer? Besides, how could she give an answer at all when she had to watch how the taser was held against Callen's left shoulder. She froze and just closed her eyes. Gasped, horrified by as she saw how his muscles spasmed time after time and his body staggered against the backseat of the police car. It was about the first time she was around to see him being tortured and suffer, hearing him groan out loud.

He should not be a victim of a decision she once made.

"Mr. Angelo... Callen was right. I suggest you let him go. If you want to discuss any matters about your past at NCIS, you ought to discuss them with me."

Could it be that Mosley wanted to discuss a matter like this with her too? But Callen knew all about it. And how and why take Callen when all Paul Angelo wanted was her?

"You don't want him... don't need him," she tried to convince the former agent. Immediately after, she wondered why back then, after Angelo had betrayed her team, she deleted the files, his files, and thus making sure to wipe out any paper trail, wipe out an identity — his identity?

Why? She knew all too well how much an identity meant to people, after all she saw what it had done to Callen. His struggle to find anything, any files, that would get him to know who he was or where he came from.

She'd done it deliberately to Paul Angelo though. And now he was back, making sure he'd punish her by hurting Callen.

Her fault, her very own fault.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

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A/N Thanks for all of your great response to the previous chapter. Of course you're the ones who are waiting for what's to come next and so I do hope you will like this chapter too. Please do share your thoughts, as ever, reviews are so welcome!

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || outside the NCIS office of special projects **

His grim facial expression convinced her that for some reason, Angelo would never let Callen go. Two men who were around left the place like in a smooth operation, planned perfectly.

"Why? What is it you want me to do?" Hetty wanted to know from Angelo. She hoped he'd explain, but he didn't answer.

Hetty joined him to the car and decided to sit down in the passenger seat with his unspoken motion.

She could only let her gaze go shortly over the man who was her favorite agent, the boy she took in and treated like her own son. He sat in the back, behind her. Small lines were etched around his eyes and the red vessels in the white of his eyes were visible. With what she'd witnessed that was no surprise, after all she knew too well what tasering did to a human body.  
"You're… are you okay?" she asked him.

"Guns and phones, please," Angelo ordered before Callen could reply. Angelo held his hands up since the simple statement was enough. Reluctantly, Hetty was the first to hand her purse to the man who still stood next to her side of the car. He went through its contents and found what he was looking for. Without further talking, he took the phone, removed the battery and the sim card, which he bowed and creased until it broke. Bit by bit, he threw parts away, and the remaining larger phone case he shoved onto the road which was closest to the car. The gun, on the contrary, he took with him and put it in the back of the car. The purse itself was put next to one of the other cars, nearby.

"Yours too," he told Callen. "Slowly though," he added.  
There was little choice and slower than usual, not taunting but simply because moving his left shoulder was so damned painful, the ritual was repeated. All in all it probably only took a few minutes.  
Then, as the last one, Paul Angelo had taken a seat next to Callen in the backseat and he nodded to the driver to move.

"Now to get things clear," Angelo started, "I won't allow you to speak. So, to make things clear, Hetty Lange, if you keep asking questions, Callen in here will not be okay. Since you insist to know though, Hetty, we've put a bullet in his body yesterday. And frankly, I never expected him to be back already. But I must say it's quite easy to make him cooperate at the moment. And with that, he is useful as he is."

He held up two weapons, the taser and his gun. "You may want to do what I want you to do, Hetty. Or not. Your decision. I suggest you stop talking and asking questions, both of you. My gun could easily lose a bullet. Elbows, knees — whatever. It would keep Callen alive but just like me, put him aside from his job. Or—as you put it 'He'll walk, but freedom is another matter entirely.' Remember, Miss Lange?"

It sounded polite, the way Angelo put forward his words. Just like she remembered. Once she truly had admired him, being polite and having a way to move around in public. And yes, also because of his impeccable way of dressing himself. Some years ago, however, she discovered too late that it was all fake and that Paul Angelo decided to betray his fellow special agents in a matter of a few words. It nearly had Callen and Deeks killed and she wasn't going to tempt that same man, knowing how easily he'd make a decision like he now spoke of.

"We get it. Agreed, Mr. Callen?" she said.

Callen didn't reply. He just sent a glare at the man next to him and wondered how he could turn this situation into something he could control. Angelo was no fool. He controlled them both and made sure it was his hurt and wounded shoulder closest, so there was no possibility of a fight and, if necessary, he could easily hurt Callen even more.

He noticed how Angelo signed at the driver. No words. The other man knew what was expected from him.

There was no possibility to share anything with Hetty right here, right now. All he could do was to let this happen and hope for a weak moment or some kind of different surprise.

Again, it was Angelo who expressed his thoughts. "This is what you predicted, weren't you, Hetty? That we'd meet again. I remember your words. What was it, that I owed you my life? And that you were the one to collect on your debts? Well, I decided we'd turn it all around. But I let you think about it for a short while. I'll explain, all in due time, all in due time."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || different part of the city **

The LAPD car kept driving for what seemed like hours. His shoulder radiated and his whole body kept pounding for what seemed like even more hours.

No one talked. Then, the driver turned left into what appeared an ordinary and civilized street, somewhere in the proximity of what he figured LAX. Hawthorne perhaps, or Lennox. They passed four houses when the car slowed down and at the fifth, it was driven on the driveway until Callen knew they were out of sight. Near the backdoor, the same men stood who had been near the NCIS office.

In the same quiet voice as ever, Paul Angelo said "Now, let's all get out, do what I ask and I will explain what I want you to do, Henrietta Lange."

Callen hesitated a brief few seconds too long and he noticed how the Asian-like eyes narrowed slightly.

"Out." It was a snarl.

Hetty turned around and wondered if Angelo addressed her too. She caught a glimpse of Callen's face and read the frustration and guilt in his eyes. But above that she knew he was in pain. He wasn't in the talkative and stubborn mood right now, yet Hetty figured out already it had to do with what Angelo mentioned before. "You decided to shoot and torture agent Callen, Mr. Angelo. You mind telling me why?" Never showing her own feeling of worry, she addressed Paul Angelo as if nobody else was around.

"Out, I said," Angelo repeated. Both passenger doors were opened from the outside.

Slowly, Hetty now did what they asked of her and Callen hardly had a choice. He was slower. Wounded. Tired but reluctant even though. Still, they forced him, nearly hauled him out and he grunted in pain. Once he was on his feet, Callen turned to Hetty. "I'm sorry that I wasn't fast enough, Hetty. I should have warned you."

"Now you shut up," Angelo stated again. "The two of you behave. And you, Hetty, are going to listen to my demands, or else..."

They entered a small room in the back of the house. "Please do sit down," he now asked politely.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

Uncomfortably, Nell sat on the edge of the couch in Mosley's office, opposite of Mosley's desk. From that place, the woman faced the younger information analyst whom she now had declared agent in lead of this case as well. "Now, about this case and the interrogations we had, I'd say, Frank Smith holds a grudge against Callen because of what he says 'it's unfair that he, Callen, was taken to grow up in a safe environment'."

Nell nodded. "Frankie did time in juvie, just like Callen did. But it's different, as you'll have noticed, because Callen was never the violent kind of boy. Hetty must've known too."

"Hetty simply knew where to find the son of her protegee, as she kept trace of him. That small journal proves that. She tried to keep him on the right track I suppose."

Nell didn't like the way Mosley cocked her head but she tried to ignore it. "As I said, Callen appeared to be the one who hotwired a car, who was on the look-out or who did the sweet talk to distract others. And you must've read how he was the one too who protected the weaker kids from being violated by others."  
She had enough of talking about Callen with Mosley and feeling as if she had to defend him. "Now, Paul Angelo—"

"He made severe mistakes," Mosley took over, "and I must say, it is one of the most creative punishments Lange came up with. Did she really take his identity?"

Nell smiled just softly. "His job, his passport, all the paperwork… everything indeed. All he had was his freedom. Yeah, back then it sounded so good, but now? I have my doubts. It seems he's back for some kind of vengeance, but how, and why, we don't know. However, Hetty's gut feeling was right back then, like it always was. Angelo around is never right. With the guy's attitude he has his ways to compose an own team. Not good at all."

Mosley took the paper file from her desk and started reading again. Her way to dismiss Nell.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue**

"Hetty... you know the rules. No negotiations with criminals."

The next few seconds were just as awful as he remembered from the previous attacks and again, Callen was trying to breath in as best as he could, hurt as he was. With the earlier gunshot wound and the beating he felt terribly weak and he hated it to know how vulnerable he would look in the eyes of Hetty, and Paul.

"Au contraire, Callen. I assume this little witchy woman will do exactly what I want her to do, since I've witnessed ánd was told by Frankie how keen she's always been to save your but. As if you were better than—"

"What do you want?" Hetty interrupted. She didn't like where this lead to at all.

Paul Angelo smirked as he turned his attention from Callen to Hetty. "Papers. An identity, a new one, preferably. Since you decided to erase everything I've ever been and accomplished there's no Paul Angelo around, right?"

"Oh, c'mon. No way," Callen muttered. So this was what it was all about? "Hetty... he was about to kill innocent kids, to get to me so he could get to you. We can't do this — you can't. I won't let you."

"Ha... You, my friend, are not in a position to make demands or stop me, are you?" Angelo sent an unspoken question to one of the men who accompanied him and seconds later, Callens arms were roughly forced backwards and his hands were being tied from behind and he grunted and moaned aloud in pain. Once he opened his eyes again he noticed how Hetty glanced up at him. "Don't, Hetty," he pleaded weakly.

She let out a deep sigh and she finally looked away from him too. In some weird way she couldn't stand seeing him hurt like this, in here, and getting even more hurt because of her reluctance to find out more. "Now, Mr. Angelo, tell me how you figure out I could be of any assistance to you?"

And he explained.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects, half an hour later**

"Jones, what's the latest you've heard from Hetty?" Mosley asked as she entered the Ops room where she sat down on a vacant chair. Whereas Nell turned towards their boss, Eric tapped with a pen on the desk and kept his attention on his computer screen.  
"Nothing," Nell said. "Actually, I wasn't aware that I was to contact her. You said—"

"I know what I said. But by now she could've and should've been around already." Mosley glanced at her watch. "Perhaps I have to call her again," she sighed.

"Maybe I should I try and reach Callen?" Eric suggested.

Mosley now turned to Eric, who nervously started to click with the ballpoint in his left hand.  
"Callen? Please explain yourself, Beale." She raised her brows.

"Yes... well... he went to try and meet with Hetty. Wanted to warn her too, beforehand, about Paul Angelo being back, you know."

Mosley got up. "Thát obstinacy. What is it he's holding against me? I told him I was going to talk to Hetty about this matter. For once I wanted to share intel and now he's doing this, without informing me. Again."  
She shook her head and exhaled loudly, stood for a moment before she continued "Yes please, Beale. Make that phone call, and put it on speaker, will you?"

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Please do feel free to share your thoughts on this story so far too!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Pins, bullets and journals**

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A/N How wrong was I in assuming I'd only need a couple of chapters to wrap up this story… We're not that far, yet. Some of you wondered if the team would be back in time to come and look for Callen and Hetty, once it is discovered that they seem to have disappeared. Let's wonder about that for a while indeed…

As ever, I'm so grateful you took the time to read and review, and I am so sorry for the delay in updating. Now, just sit back and enjoy!

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

" _Yes please, Beale. Make that phone call, and put it on speaker, will you?" Mosley asked._

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects, later in the afternoon **

Eric dialed Hetty's number first and already breathed in, expecting a swift response from her as ever. But nothing happened at all. No response nor a click which guided him to a spoken text that would announce that he could leave a voicemail. "Nothing... it's dead," Eric said. Looking up in surprise, he shook his head and tried again, wondering if he made a mistake. The result was the same, however.  
Eric didn't waste any words or time but pressed the pre-dial button to Callen's on the landline phone.  
By now he was worried though, since he'd heard how earlier on Callen expressed his fear that Paul Angelo reached Hetty before Callen could warn her. The lead agent would not appreciate to hear from Eric that Hetty's phone was unreachable, that he knew for sure. He'd put the phone on speaker already and hoped Mosley would address Callen and explain, so he didn't have to. He looked up to Mosley and Nell on a mix of surprise and worry when this phone call also ended up nowhere.

"Shit," he said.  
He looked up, uncertain now how the assistant director would response at his use of language. "I mean... this sucks, right?"

"It does when we can't reach any of them," Nell agreed. "It worries me too. We've had situations like these before, when we've lost contact. But now that Callen expressed his worry about Hetty before... we need to find her, before — well, you know, Paul Angelo detested her. If he threatens her, like Callen feared he might, God knows what'll happen."

"I get it. Any suggestions?" Mosley asked. If anything she understood it was how all of the people in this team of six, and she included Nell and Eric too, were fond of the petite veteran handler. The same went for the Washington and New Orleans teams, as for the director of NCIS, Leon Vance.  
Mosley had to admit that no matter how Henrietta Lange worked on her nerves every now and then, she admired the older, retired woman too. At first, Shay Mosley had underestimated the small woman. Perhaps because she appeared to be so weak when they first met. Legends went in their world of the spy Lange used to be, but the frail and small woman the team rescued from Vietnam never looked strong at all. Physically, Hetty Lange was getting older and it looked like she also was suffering from Agent Orange, like so many of her generation were. However, mentally Henrietta Lange was just as strong as before. Clever, and underestimated by so many people.  
Mosley also had learned to trust the team leader, but unlike for instance Sam Hanna or Kensi Blye, Grisha Callen proved to be just as much stubborn as other people had told her before. He may have done exactly just do exactly that what she had hoped he wouldn't—stay around too long instead of taking some rest. After all, he was all she had to rely on now that the others of the A-team of NCIS were on vacation or family leave. She needed him, sharp and sound.

It was as if the two analysts granted her some inner thoughts, and after a silent few minutes, Eric suggested "I'll let the outside camera's work. See if we can spot anything out of the ordinary from the moment Callen left this place. Which was what, over two hours ago, right?"

Mosley nodded. "Do whatever you think is necessary, Beale. And Jones, if anything pops up, please do inform me." She inhaled and slowly let the air escape, and while she stretched the dark blue skirt she was wearing, she continued "Anytime, Jones. Because that's how we do this in here, right?"  
She turned and left the Ops room. Once she was seated behind her own desk, she opened the paper files which Nell had left earlier on. But it was the small, orange booklet Nell had carefully put next to it which grabbed her attention first. Journals, Nell Jones had told her, which explained a lot of why Callen behaved like he did. She opened it and started reading.  
Within minutes, there was so much more she learned about the past of special agent G. Callen, Grisha Alexandrovich Nikolaev, than she heard before. He'd been so right, as were Nell Jones and Eric Beale. If only she'd listened more carefully… But right now, all she could do was regret the fact she invited Henriette Lange to come around. Paul Angelo sure was someone she should have learned more about, when — Well. She was wrong, and all she could do was to work harder to find them all; Callen, Lange and Paul Angelo.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue **

Being split up without having a chance to brief his former managing operator properly sucked. Callen could only let her know his opinion and hoped she'd find a way too to get out of this place.  
"Hetty... don't even think about it. You and I both know we can't trust Paul," Callen said.

Callen expected he was going to regret a remark like this, but right now the man who definitely was in charge simply snickered. "Oh Callen, you think you're so wise. You even think you can control anything in this situation. But you see, it's nothing that you can influence. This is not about you. It just comes in handy that your team is unavailable. You are — well, just a means on this case."

He clenched his jaw and wriggled it. Deep down, Callen knew Angelo was right. And from the position he was in, he couldn't do much, no way, with his hands bent backwards and bound solidly with rope.

As if Angelo understood he mentioned "We'll stay around, you and I. My buddy in here will accompany our dear Hetty on her mission. All in all, we all will go our own ways once she's finished with her part of the deal."

Callen simply shook his head. "No way, Paul, you won't go nowhere. In the end, you won't get away with this."

This time Angelo took out his gun and whipped it against Callen's already wounded shoulder, again, and it made him cry out loud. Once the sharp pain hit in, it made Callen pass out for a few seconds. It made Hetty wonder in which condition her agent really was.  
Inwardly she corrected her own thoughts, realizing she wasn't handling him and his team any longer. Things had changed now Mosley was around, it was impossible to work with her like Hetty had worked with Owen Granger before. Besides, her health had changed. Deteriorated, she knew. All in all, it would take some time until she would be able to leave the constant state of alertness for the team finally behind her.

Although Callen's shirt was of a dark navy blue and there was no way she saw what was beneath it, the echo of Angelo's words sank in — they had shot him and all of that happened only recently. "Stop that, Paul, or I won't help you at all."

Angelo shook his head. "Maybe I may just as well go and put a bullet in his head right now."

Some groans sounded from Callen and he winced as he slowly opened his eyes.  
Paul Angelo continued to address Hetty. He raised his voice "And don't you tell me you won't cooperate once he's gone as a hostage. Rest assured that I will find a way to make you cooperate anyway, Hetty. I could drug you to do what I want. Or… well, it's up to you."  
He stepped closer to Callen and aimed his gun.  
Once Callen fully realized what was going on, he gritted his teeth to try and hide his agony. "Maybe—" he tried.

Hetty shook her head and made a hushing sound. She turned and managed to get the attention from Paul Angelo. "Now then, Mr. Angelo, you suggested you have someone to accompany me to our office. You may want to introduce us?"

Slowly she rose from the wooden chair and once she got on her feet, she approached Callen. "It's going to be okay, dear boy. You just need to take care of yourself." She lay her old and tiny hand on his right shoulder and gently squeezed it as in a comforting way. "You just lay low, Mr. Callen. I trust that Mr. Angelo won't hurt you any further, not until I will return with his men and the papers he asked for."

Callen glanced up at the woman whom he considered as his surrogate mother. He knew all too well that once Hetty had done what Paul Angelo wanted her to do, neither of them would be granted to go. Angelo's revenge would go further than that and he was about to point that out when, again, Hetty shook her head. She didn't want him to talk.  
There was more of a promise in Hetty's words than what she really expressed and it offered him something more than soothing. It was shortly after she stepped back that he understood. Callen twisted his head as far as he dared and noticed the small button which was pinned near the collar of his shirt. He swallowed away some of his worry. No one had taken the time to thoroughly check Hetty for any hidden spy ware, else but to take her purse in which she carried weapons, and her cell phone.

Right now, Hetty calmly stated "I need guarantees, Mr. Angelo. You see, as long as I am certain that nothing will happen to Mr. Callen, and I mean nothing at all, I can and will cooperate. But the moment I hear, see or even sense that you're cheating on me..." Hetty didn't finish her sentence but just shook her head.

A smirk came as a response and Paul Angelo added "Now, now, Lange. May I remind you that I am the one who makes the demands? Just to let you know, I'm sending Richard Barnet and Louis Otis with you. Both have received the same orders. If anything seems like you are cheating on me, they are willing to start shooting around. At your precious people at the office, or anywhere on the street. Oh, and just saying, Barnet is a real LAPD officer, and he won't hesitate calling in back up once he feels he's being threatened."

Those few remarks made Hetty feel defenseless, and she knew the same went for Callen. She needed a plan and she needed it soon.

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 _Please do feel free to leave your review!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Pins, bullets and journals**

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A/N Thank you so much, all of you, who read and reviewed the previous chapter. Like you, I have been wondering from time to time how on earth Hetty and Callen are going to get out of this. After all, we know that there's no Deeks, Sam or Kensi around! There will be only a few more chapters left to find out if and how they manage. Will you just join them (and me) to get to know more?

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Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill **.**

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue**

What really concerned her was the simple fact that her boy, Callen, would sacrifice his own life just to save that of others. Innocent, weaker, defenseless and unknowing citizens. People who'd be missed by their beloved ones... was that why he had no ties to anyone but his own team?  
Hetty had witnessed it so many times, how he and his team did the right thing for the people in Los Angeles. Things which were beyond what may seem to possible, yet they did it.  
She'd seen how he planned, how he managed to lead a team like his and how the dynamic of that team made him stronger than she ever expected him to be. The lone wolf who learned to work with others – a tight group. Callen planned. Insisted that the others left and he was the one who stayed behind. Always coming back, although sometimes barely alive. And Hetty knew he'd do that for her too – sacrifice his life so that she could stay alive. She needed to leave this place, as soon as she could and meanwhile, she hoped he wouldn't do something that she would regret.

After all, the remaining days of her life should be of a shorter list than his.

But then she was scared as well that Paul Angelo would and could take some impulsive action to get to Callen as well, just in reprisal on her, and she'd never see Callen alive again. She needed to do something wise. The small GPS tracker was one of the best items she had right now, yet no-one would care to track it until she would ask to.  
Yes, it was time to go.

She sent Callen a brief smile, then straightened her shoulders and left with both men.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

While Nell re-watched parts of the interrogation of Frank Smith while she had her computer system also looking for Paul Angelo by facial recognition, Eric tried several CCTV's in the neighborhood of their main office.

"When was it that Callen left?" He kept his fingers on the keyboard and started entering times once Nell absently replied "About three hours ago, I think. You and he had a phone call, right? Check it."

Nell was on the edge of what she wanted to handle. She needed the team around. Heck, she wanted Callen around. He'd know what to do, he'd keep his calm and guide her through this case. She sighed deeply and she sure hoped he would contact them as soon as he could.

"Now what," Eric muttered only some minutes later. He leaned forward to the screen of his computer, curious where Callen had gone. Their own outside cam hadn't caught anything at all. But that wasn't surprising, since it was merely used for the other way around, to announce uninvited guests.  
What he now noticed was the ordinary black-and-white of a LAPD patrol car coming to a halt near the main parking lot, though not quite into full sight. Yet it took quite some time for it to leave. Which was weird. Just as weird as noticing a large purse nearby that same spot, which seemingly was forgotten by its owner.  
And Eric knew only one single person who carried purses like these. He shook his head in disbelief, looked up, breathed in as if he was about to express his thoughts but then closed his mouth just like that again. He had to process this thing, first. There was a camera only half a block later, he knew. He would to look into that too before he drew any conclusions at all. Or shouldn't he?  
He got up from behind his desk and left the Ops room. Which wasn't different from other moments on other days at all, although he usually shared with Nell. Not this time and she barely noticed.

Eris was back in less than five minutes, entering in a different pace than usual. "Got something," he said, his voice a mix between desperate and excited. Is was alarming for his co-worker and she looked up from behind her own screens.  
"This," Eric continued now he had her attention. He didn't have to explain any further and she got up in a rush. He simply followed her as she entered Mosley's office without any announcement.

"Go on, spit it out," Nell encouraged her partner.

"Hetty," Eric said. "This is her purse and it was left on the sidewalk."

Their executive manager simply raised her brow and so he added "The sidewalk in front of our office, near to her car, which is parked opposite the street."

"Not good," Nell uttered her thoughts.

"You think Callen was right then, and that somehow Paul Angelo managed to grab her? On the street, in broad daylight?" The way Mosley concluded made it sound rather unbelievable indeed, yet Eric simply agreed "They must have. I cannot think of anything else."

"Bugger," Mosley sighed and it sounded just the way Hetty used to make it sound.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue, half an hour later**

It was better this way, with Hetty on her way back to their office. Although there was no possible way she would've known beforehand that his team was not there, there had been no shock to be read in her eyes when it was mentioned. She'd plan something. And with Nell and Eric around, she could, that much Callen trusted in. They'd be some kind of secret weapon.  
Callen tried to work out the time it would take until Hetty and those two men would return to the office, and what she could do once she was in there.

He moved around on the seat of the chair, only to find out how wobbly it was and if and how he could use that.

"So, you're not feeling that comfortable, mister special agent?"

The Asian like eyes stared at him, hard and pretty unreadable. Callen licked his dry lips and lifted his chin just slightly. He felt like crap indeed. His shoulder hurt like hell and having his arms stretched back in this position did not help either.  
He wasn't a physician but Callen did know enough, too much actually, about what could go wrong with wounds which weren't treated properly. And by now, he was fully aware of the fact that he was weaker than he wanted to be.  
He knew enough about being tortured as well, which he expected Angelo might do simply as some kind of punishment for, well, for nothing he did, but just because.  
And even though he didn't feel physically well at this moment, it certainly wasn't something he wanted to share with this man who once was one of them. So instead, he simply decided to stonewall the other man.

"Frankie said you like to be around with young kids. That's why you came, didn't you? He planned that one the way I hoped he would. Tell me, do you prefer boys or girls?"

Callen didn't know if Angelo was good in reading his face, and he swallowed it all in, the disbelief, anger, embarrassment, he didn't really know. Too many emotions came to his mind. If he were to respond, it had been only gasps of not being sure he heard that remark right indeed. Now, he just shook his head once.

"It's always that way when one is confronted with sins. Yet it should be not something to be ashamed of, Callen. I understand, I really do." A hushing sound came from the other man.  
Callen figured the rogue agent was trying to play 'good cop, bad cop' just to kill time. And Paul Angelo went on "Some of us are simply have a liking which isn't easy to suppress. I get that. Personally, I prefer women. Not like Frankie, or maybe you..." Angelo paused a beat, observing the other man very carefully.

He clenched his teeth, knowing it was just a way of Paul Angelo trying to get under his skin. And damn, it worked too. He let the thought sink in as he remembered the urge of earlier that week when Eric notified him of the e-mail that was sent his way. The innocent kids, the scared looks on their faces. His hope to get them all out. He shook his head, again, wondering if the little girl he tried to save had survived after all.  
But it had nothing to do with what Paul Angelo hinted at. It was… well, what was it? All he cared for was how he wished all kids deserved to have a loving and careless youth, not the troubled one he'd had himself. Besides, what did Paul Angelo know about him? All he had against him was what Frankie Smith must have come up with, a lot of humbug like Frankie had always loved to make things up. And Frankie, well, he was nothing but someone who apparently preferred to choose the wrong side of the law. Who wanted to overpower anyone who might turn into someone he could no longer rely on.

Callen now kept his head down, not sure if he were able to keep his face unreadable. He had a plan, maybe it worked. All he had to do was keep Angelo talking and trying to get him close enough. If so, he'd use both his feet to kick against Angelo's knees. Meanwhile, that very same kick would help him to make the chair topple and he figured the backrest would break, which gave him room to move and attack the other man.

Angelo got nearer now, sneering "Wondering now, are we? Having difficulties to discuss the matter?"  
A chuckle came his way now and he knew Paul Angelo kept observing him. There was some slyness in his voice, and Callen knew it was because Paul Angelo was sure he was in the upper hand.  
"Feeling that bad, Callen? We all have some dark secrets, don't we? Even though you are the most favorite agent of Hetty Lange or even director Vance. You're not that perfect, you know. Just look at you…"

Callen needed him only some inches nearer now. "If only you knew," he said, his voice deliberately low.

"Excuse me?" Angelo now tilted his head. All of a sudden, the smug smile he'd carried left his face. He narrowed his eyes and he was all in agent mode now, understanding fully how Callen had tried to lure him closer, for the only reason he could think of – attacking the other man.  
"You're into another fight, Callen. Well, geez, that was not what I had expected. Never mind."

Angelo stepped back a bit further and called out loud "Mauro! Got a job to do!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

It was the police car which triggered Eric most, and as he expected, another he successfully accessed traffic camera's nearby. Nothing looked suspiciously when the car approached the large parking lot which was opposite their office. It was the time schedule it remained in there that did it. Plus the simple fact that somehow, the officers which drove it and who might have left the car managed to stay out of sight.

It was nearly a quarter of an hour later when he finally caught footage of probably the same car passing by. He froze the footage only once while he grabbed his phone and called LAPD.  
Surely, they'd know who was on duty and drove this car, and for which purpose. That would take only have to take a few more minutes and he sighed in relief when the centralist answered his call.

* * *

Thanks again for reading!

 _Kni®benrots_


	12. Chapter 12

**Pins, bullets and journals**

 **Chapter 12**

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much, all of you, for reading and/or leaving any reviews. I can't tell you how grateful I am for those, sherrib1968, countrygirluk5, wotumba1, Guest, n4d1n3 and Mulderette.

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 _~ It was better this way, with Hetty on her way back to their office. ~_

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue**

Of course, Mauro. There had been four men, he'd seen them outside the NCIS headquarters.  
The man who responded to Paul Angelo's call entered the small and poorly decorated living room and seemed to be waiting for orders. In one way or another, Callen felt that time was ticking, his time was running short. He really didn't trust that Angelo would keep him alive. Perhaps for the shortest while, as a bait for Hetty to come back with everything Angelo had requested. New identity papers, his badge back, and for what?

Again, Callen lifted his chin. At this moment he could only think of two things. He wanted to know what Paul Angelo was planning, and, if the situation occurred that he, Callen, was no longer in a position to stop Paul, his fellow agents ought to do that. So, he now sent a smirk with his words. "Hetty still will need footage of me, alive and kicking Paul. Otherwise she'll never do what you want her to do."

"How stupid are you? I explained. My companions will destroy everyone in your office."

"You still wouldn't be Paul Angelo. Still wouldn't have your credentials back. What were you planning? Crossing the border? Hetty and director Vance will still do whatever is in their power to stop you. ." He was tempting the other man. On purpose, Not knowing how he'd end up in the end. Callen's inward clock told him that by now, Hetty and her guards, appointed by the man he talked to, might've arrived. "So? Mauro's the guy with the camera, I suppose?"

Although he thought he was well prepared, the severe blows in his face and on his torso had him gasp for air and grunt in agony. Once he caught his breath again, nothing had changed. He still sat, hands tied behind his back and unable to do what he wanted to do.

"My guess is there's a team coming this way soon. You know about Hetty's photographic memory, eh, Paul?"

This time there was doubt in the eyes of Paul's companion.

"I am aware of all of that Callen, but never mind, we will have left this place anyway. Hetty is a clever old woman," Paul Angelo agreed. "But she won't find any of us in here, even when she manages to find this street and house back. I bet she'll be quite devastated to find you are gone. Besides, I gave her only a one and a half hour to hand me what I wanted. She knows there's no way to alarm anyone – then you're a gonner. She won't take any risks, buddy. It's such a sweet loving thing I'm working on, don't you think?"

"We'll find you Paul. If not in here, it'll be somewhere else. No matter what, we'll find you."

The stare that met him was hard and finally Angelo said "There's no 'you' in 'we', Callen. By the time Mauro is through with you, Hetty won't be able to understand what you're saying. Nobody will hear you, I suppose." He huffed a laugh. "Mauro has a mission, you know? To ruin you, bit by bit, until you're literally gone."

Angelo took his phone and aimed it at Callen. And despite the fact he felt blood running from his brow which he was unable to wipe away, he looked straight into the camera, trying to look as confident and defiant as possible.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"Hi there, this is NCIS, Eric Beale, speaking. Could you let me know which emergency occurred earlier today, Mindanao Way?"  
He waited a beat, listening to the person on the other side. He nodded, and continued "There was this car of yours. It looked like your people left it for about a quarter of an hour, then were ready with whatever they may've been doing and left."  
He kept clicking his ballpoint on and off for the time he took in the other side's information, then took the notepad on which he'd been doodling and writing and said "Sure, I have the 5-digit number in here." He read it aloud and nodded several times. "Please do so, ASAP. We'd like to know. Your man or men may have caught something which may be very important in connection to one of our ongoing cases."

He didn't need to tell what it was about, Eric figured. The officer whom it concerned would be warned and he'd hear any specific details.

Nell had swiveled her chair towards her partner. "Anything?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. No names, no more feed, nothing. You?"

She inhaled deeply. "All that feed to go through when it comes to Angelo. It's going too slow, Beale. All I found out so far is that he's been using several aliases so far, and has ties to some in criminal organizations."

"Korean?"

"Because of his looks? Nope, Sureño. Not that it changes anything, or at least nothing in the crimes committed. They've got eyes and ears everywhere, Eric, and perhaps he's deeper in this than we've expected."

"And more than only a rogue NCIS agent," Eric understood. "You think we ought to tell Mosley?"  
On her nod, he trotted to their boss' fancy glass office and Nell followed.  
They didn't find the executive director behind her desk. Instead, she sat behind Sam's desk in the bullpen, with paper files stacked next to the one she was reading.

"Anything new?" She looked up at the flip-flops of the male tech, inwardly shaking her head to the way this man dressed.

"LAPD will let me know about—" He blinked his eyes several times and shook his head just a little. "Hetty?"

"Mr. Beale," the former operations manager nodded, to the three of them who looked up. She was accompanied by a LAPD-officer. "This is Richard Barnet, LAPD. He offered to come along. Just… to be sure."

Although her words sounded logical as only Hetty Lange could be, Nell found something alarming in the way this happened. Hetty never would have taken anyone in as a visitor to the anonymous headquarter, unless there would be a very good reason. All she could remember were the members of the Hawaii five-o team, and Thapa, but any other than Deeks as a representative of LAPD? Never. She would welcome them at the boathouse, not here. Not 'just to be sure'. Besides, there was something familiar in the man's face, although she couldn't lie a finger on it yet.

After those first welcoming words, Hetty and the accompanying LAPD officer entered the bullpen as well.  
Despite the sudden suspicion she managed a grateful greet at the older woman she once again considered her the best mentor one could ever have.  
"Why, hello Hetty! So glad you popped up. You know we were on a look out for you? Ever since we found your bag, being left on the sidewalk. You knew we found it, or rather Eric did?" She started jabbering and she was aware of it too.

It was good to see how Mosley carefully observed the two unexpected guests too. "Miss Lange… I did invite you to come on over to discuss a rather urgent matter, one from the past."

"I see, I see. Well, my dear, tell me, how can I be of any assistance? Ever since I presumed Miss Jones in here could be of your help any time now, you are making me very anxious about what it is you ask of me. Lord knows I may have forgotten so many matters."

"Of course Nell does help me," Mosley stated. "She already handed me a tremendous load of intel, both digital as analogue, but that's obvious, seeing this, right?"  
Saying this, Mosley turned part of the paper files around so Hetty could read the numbers of those files. Even she knew of Henrietta Lange's immaculate memory and so seeing the files alone might be enough to tell what she was working on.

"I see... So perhaps my day out to come and see you was not worth all the effort and setback I met with today. Although, Mr. Beale, I am grateful for handing me back my bag. It was rather clumsy to find I must have forgotten it. You reckon everything that was in it still is?"

Eric shrugged. In all the rush he never checked its contents, and he doubted he would ever dare to. "We checked your phone Hetty, but it was dead."

She shook her head. "Now then... if that is all I think none of us should be worried, should we?" Without any obvious emotion, she then asked "Mr. Callen is not around?"

Eric was about to reply, but Mosley was first. She figured that in one way or another she could read the experienced woman's face, and if not, warn her in some way or another. "Ah, well, he went to see you. I suppose you didn't have a chance to talk to him at all?"

Hetty paused only a millisecond. Enough for Mosley and Nell to understand there was more than Hetty trusted to mention. "We haven't indeed. Now, since you appear to be more than capable to read into the matter which worried you, dear, I think I may look into some of the matters that I left in here for some rainy days as a matter of fact."

She turned to Barnet and said "You may get comfortable and sit down and wait for a while, Mr. Barnet."

Only Nell spotted the grin and something which might be a warning in the man's eyes. "It's alright, miss Lange. I'm sure you won't want to waste any time either, so why don't I join you?"

The formal smile on the former Operations Manager's face went with her words, but never reached her eyes. "Very well then." She turned to head to her own old oak desk to find what she was looking for right now, knowing that Barnet wasn't going to leave her out of sight.  
Then she stopped, turned and addressed the tech operator. "Oh, Mr. Beale? It may come in handy if you could assist executive assistant director Mosley. I think there's another digital file you all may need to solve this matter." She rubbed her chin and slowly nodded in confirmation herself. "I think I filed it myself earlier on. There's a pin you may want to enter, try and find it. It goes by the number 18-09, if I'm right."  
She simply neglected the puzzled look on the younger man's face and motioned to the uniformed officer to join her. Once she sank down on the wooden chair behind her desk she felt how the situation was working on her nerves by now. She felt rather shaky — this minimized team she saw right now would have to work harder than ever to get to a breakthrough and do whatever was within their power to get to the bottom of this case. Shakier than she wanted, she demanded in a soft voice so they could not be overheard "Show me evidence that Callen is still alive, and I will get what is needed."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue**

He didn't know what Angelo planned to do, not from now on. Not with him, or with Hetty, or with why the guy needed and wanted so desperately to be one of the NCIS officers right now.

After the short time the camera had been running, Paul Angelo left the room for a matter of minutes. There was some talking, but too faint to overhear. The smug smile on his face once he re-entered wasn't telling it was anything good, not for him.

"Mauro, get the car and be back as soon as you can," he ordered.

The other man left the room. For a short second, Callen closed his eyes, letting the man's features go by. Mauro. It sounded Spanish, Portuguese maybe. "What are you into, Paul. You being blackmailed or something?"

"Intriguing… You never reckon I could lead some branch or something?"

He just shook his head. "Too much of a short fuse." He expected it, the next few blows which landed everywhere and he hurt like hell. He figured that if he weren't tied up like this, he could handle Paul Angelo, but only if he was in a good shape. Not like this.  
He needed a plan and he needed it fast.  
He wheezed slightly when he finally looked up. "So. Not wanna share?"

Paul Angelo just shook his head and chuckled. "No way Callen. For once, you lose. Ah, well, that will be your final loss as well." There was the click of a knife opening and Callen felt how his hands were untied. "Now, get up."

"Impossible," he sighed, "wait another second". The sound of the hammer of a gun reached his ear and slowly, very slowly, he got up, understanding this might be it.  
The stiffness of his body never surprised him, not after these hours of sitting in the same painful position, but since he wanted to do what he wanted to, one more action, he leaned on the table in front of him with his right hand. Then he slowly let it go and moved his right hand over his left shoulder where everything seemed to be hurting. He grunted and tried to hide his pain. He closed his eyes and blinked a few times and let his hand go over his eyes, then his right shoulder. "Just a sec," he repeated and he inhaled deeply before he toppled forward against the other man's body. Paul Angelo nearly stumbled backwards himself but managed to stay on his feet in the end.

"Losing is a bitch, Callen," he said when Mauro entered.

* * *

 _Once again, thanks for reading. Any review is very welcome!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **Pins, bullets and journals**

* * *

 _A/N: Have I told you before how grateful I am for all those thoughts you share in your reviews? Thank you so much._

 _So, now here we are, chapter 13 to be published. Just to warn you: there's a lot going on in here and things are going in a rush indeed. It also means that this story is coming near to an end._

* * *

Disclaimer: the original characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS and I am very grateful to use them for this storyline once again!

* * *

 _"Just a sec," he repeated and he inhaled deeply before he toppled forward against the other man's body. Paul Angelo nearly stumbled backwards himself but managed to stay on his feet in the end._

 _"Losing is a bitch, Callen," Paul Angelo said ~_

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"What was it they were showing you?" Richard Barnet inquired of Hetty.

She pursed her lips and had an answer ready without blinking an eye. "A cold case. During times like these with a minimal team, we usually set our goals to solve a least one cold case. Or well, the people who are around, since you know by now that I don't work at this office any longer." She pushed her glassed up a little, unconscious of it. "This one is about one of our own, whom we lost some years ago." Her pale eyes met the other man's stare and she continued "You probably went through similar situations several times at your office. Always sad, don't you think so, Mr. Barnet?"

Th LAPD officer nodded — he understood. His gaze never left the movements the older woman made. He noticed how Hetty opened a small cabinet which contained several keys. She let her hand go through them and took the one she needed. Then she got up again and motioned the other man to follow her. With the key she opened an antique office filing cabinet and she let her fingers go through them.  
"Well now, here we have it."  
She handed the other man a sealed envelope, with a curly but clearly handwritten 'Angelo, Paul,' on it. "This is what he needs, what he demanded, right?"

Barnet nodded and exhaled.

"Now then, Mr. Barnet. I suggest you make a picture of this file, open it, make another picture of its contents and inform Mr. Angelo that my part of the deal was made. I would, however, suggest you ask once again to have feed sent to my phone, or yours, to show that my agent, Mr. Callen, is in good condition too, before we leave this building with these files".

From the corner of her eyes she noticed how the minimized team were all checking their cell phones. Probably about this case, Hetty assumed. Yet, she decided she would not try to catch anything, nor interfere. Perhaps she could leave another breadcrumb before she'd leave this building — the one she always would feel at home in.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The three of them glanced at each other, and Nell understood there was a lot to share with EAD Mosley. She took out her cell phone and motioned the others to do the same.

Eric started:  
\- saw police car on traf cam outside office before Hetty was unreachable

Nell frowned, wanting make sure about what to add:  
\- think I saw this guy with Hetty on my screen up with Angelo.  
Her thumbs went like crazy on the small tabs of her phone as she continued:  
\- Angelo is connected to Soreño

They all looked up and Nell just started talking too. "Do you think Callen will answer his phone by now? I mean, by now he should realize Hetty isn't at home, and he could be of assistance in here, right?" It was because she wanted Hetty to know that they knew Callen was not to be reached, and that they tried before as well.

"I hope will drop by as soon as he can. We really could use a hand right now," Mosley stated.

Meanwhile she typed  
\- what about that file she was talking about Eric?  
\- Get into that

Eric nodded and read the next short message Mosley left.

\- I'm calling LAPD Bates. Let you know more ASAP

Mosley's phone rang as she made the call, a simple setting she arranged in the cheapest app she found. This way, it was as if she was called. In fact, the other party had to answer before any contact was made, but it took only five more rings before Bates answered. It wasn't really natural how she greeted the Los Angeles head of the police, but she managed. "Roger, this is Shay Mosley. Listen, I need you to do me a favor. There's a case we were working on, and I may need some assistance." She listened to his reply, and knew she couldn't give away too much with one of Bates' around, a rogue officer overhearing what was said. "Well of course I can. But you see, we're a little short of people." Another pause as she was listening. "Fair enough. Agent Jones will sent some detailed information which will come handy to know." She nodded to the man on the other side of the line, knowing he could not see it, so she added "Alright. Thank you," before she disconnected the call.

She simply watched the two analysts who would have to be in the field soon. Too soon.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || South Fir Avenue**

"What the fuck—" Paul Angelo swore.

Never mind the fact it was part of his act, Callen was aware how much weaker he was than he wanted to be. Feverish too. He was pretty sure the bullet which was supposed to be stuck in his collarbone made some kind of escape only to destroy tissue around his shoulder. Bone structures that were broken, out of place. He landed on his knees which made him in an equally vulnerable situation as before.

Before he had a chance to get up, he heard the door slam and the bulky step that announced Angelo's partner coming his way. In a matter of moments Mauro's shoed foot pressed him flat down to the floor and kept him pinched in that position too.

"Your little old woman called. She's doing exactly what we want her to do. I figure you've served your purpose by now, special agent Callen. Who would've thought that NCIS would lose one of their best and find another agent has come back as the long lost son in a matter of a few hours? Not you, nor your dear but absent co-workers, I bet!"

It made Callen realize how much he missed his team. How much he missed Sam, and how he was scared for the first time that there'd be no way to tell his big partner who was like a brother to him, how much he appreciated the banter during stakeouts, the guilt he felt that Sam, who had to miss his wife, would also going to miss his friend and co-worker.  
And although inwardly he swore in anger and anguish, he gasped while he felt even more hurt than before "She won't just deal with your threats like you will expect Paul. By now a team is looking for you."  
He winced in pain now Mauro put more weight on his already battered body.

Paul Angelo's reply was like Callen expected, a huffing laugh sounded and even without being able to glance at the former agent, Callen knew how the near black eyes of the other man would still be unreadable and hard as steel.  
"I trust my men, Callen, I trust my team. Warned both of you what would happen if she was going to be betray me and this situation."

Callen clenched his jaws. No way he wanted Hetty to be endangering any of the team or any innocent bystanders. Still, he continued , trying to keep his voice as icy as possible. "She's keen, Paul. Keener than you think. She'll find a way."

A denying 'uh-uh' sounded.

"Kabam," Mauro affirmed that negative backtrack and it was about the first time Callen heard the other man speak. Also one of the last, since something hard hit his head – probably one of Mauro's shoes, and he was out.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects**

Eric didn't jog up the stairs again. Instead of his usual working spot at Ops, but he took one of the four available desks. Since his laptop was already booted up, he simply placed it on the docking station and he tried the code Hetty mentioned earlier in several systems.

Meanwhile, he kept an eye on what his former operations manager was doing.

Only a few minutes later, Nell joined him. She started checking on the smallest screen, and noticed that Mosley left them another message:  
\- Bates will have a team outside. He'll take some precautional measures.

It wasn't that Nell understood this message and she frowned as she was about to ask if Mosley could explain any further. She looked up but only when the petite Ninja-like woman stood in front of her.

"Miss Jones... have you seen the fur from the south?"

Nell frowned even more with the question from Hetty, not understanding what was meant. The only fur she'd ever seen Hetty wearing was a fur scarf, but why ask for it? She shrugged and shook her head "I don't know, Hetty."

"It came from the South. I'm pretty sure you will know where to find it. After all I told Executive Assistant Director Mosley you are the one who can guide a team purely by your expertise," Hetty said. She sighed deeply, then waved her remark away with her left hand. "Never mind, Miss Jones, never mind. Well then, Mr. Beale, I hope you will be able to trace the item I mentioned earlier?"

"Working on it, Hetty," Eric said, sending her a confident smile though. All of a sudden he understood what her words meant, and it was mow he understood that Hetty was deliberately not straightforward and her choice of words was different from what he was used to. It meant she did not want to inform the officer who accompanied her.  
Eric let his hands go over the keypad, leaned back in his chair and needed to hold back the grin on his face. He nodded to himself once he combined the message, the code and even the small talk she had with Nell.

"Well, ladies and gentleman, since there's no way I can assist you with this case any longer, and since you haven't found what you were looking for, I suppose I ought to use my time, let's say, more effective. I think this is a perfect moment to tell in all confidence that it's always been a pleasure working with you."

Again, Nell frowned. It was a message which absolutely did not fit this woman, who she knew was direct in her words. She worried and was about to tell this, but again, Hetty surprised her as she stepped closer and hugged the petite analyst, and whispered "Stay safe, my dear."  
Hetty then turned rather abruptly and followed the LAPD-officer.

Once the heavy wooden door slammed close, Mosley exhaled and joined both the younger people. "Bates is going to arrest them. He's got a team outside already, in only matters of minutes they were in position. Even during my call, so it seemed. It's not going to be played nicely."

"This Barnet, look, he's in here… in here, and there, three times, with Paul Angelo. Talking only is no proof, I know, but —"

"Suspicion is enough. There's more than Hetty told, right?"

"You're right, boss," Eric agreed. "Listen up, the code she gave? And using the word 'trace' and linking it to the casefiles she saw from you, well, it was a one and one makes three and I figure it out, you see?"

"Stop the fluster, Beale," Nell prodded.

Eric tilted his head just slightly and said "It's a GPS-tracker. Activated, ready to be read. South Fir Avenue."

"Fir, Fur, from the South…" Nell now understood.

"On what would she use a tracker?" Mosley wondered.

"Or… on who?" Eric asked himself a question. Then he replied immediately "Callen. I'm sure Hetty was with Callen, and she's scared we, or she, won't find him otherwise," he reasoned. "Both their cell phones are offline, we all saw how Hetty hesitated when we asked if she had met with Callen. Guys, this isn't good. I've got the feeling this all is going in a direction that is beyond bad."

"Now you two listen."  
The order coming from Mosley was nearly harsh, but it worked and once their attention was with someone who was able to lead a case, Mosley continued. "You two gear up. Be ready in five. Ranisha from communications will take over the basics of guiding you in the right directions. I'll arrange another team of LAPD and who knows whatever assisting team I can find, to get with you in time. Now go, hurry."

They were on their feet already when Nell asked Mosley directly "Where will you be?"

Shay Mosley wet her lips and sighed deeply. "I'll do my utmost to try and get Henrietta Lange opening up and share details. Which won't be easy, seeing that she still appears to feel bitter for not being able to work alongside of me."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He was hurting, ran a fever and unable to think of any escapes any longer. Duct tape did it. Not only were Callen's hands and ankles bound with duct tape, his hands and arms were also taped backwards around the passenger chair of a van. Blinded windows. Breathing was difficult, since his mouth was also taped. Callen was aware that he needed to think clearly and to try not to hyperventilate. In this same moment he was so tired of what felt like a battle he may lose anyway. The agent wasn't feeling like an agent at all. At this very moment, he realized how scared the people he'd met in the field and whom he had rescued in some way, must feel. He never felt that fear before, not until now.

Mauro was driving the van and Callen didn't have a clue as to where they were going, nor how long they were on their way already. Mauro had the van on the 405, heading North, and Callen did recognize Inglewood. He had the city map in his head, and it was as if the drive was in the direction of Culver.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"The one-o-five, still heading West, near Lennox now." Ranisha's words came rather tight. Clearly she was not accustomed to such a task.

Eric tapped on the petite screen in the dashboard of the large Ford SUV, one of the standard cars available at NCIS. "At this speed, where would we meet this car Ranisha?"

It was quiet on the other side for a moment. "Four-o-five, at the intersection 2A, Hawthorn – Lennox. Keep driving." All she was focused on were the two red dots which were closing in on each other.

"Beale, Mosley in here. You were right, Hetty put a tracker on Callen's clothing. We've got Hetty isolated from Barnet and she's pretty sure that Paul Angelo is going to do Callen harm if he doesn't hear from her or Barnet soon. If not he already has… LAPD also eliminated a companion who was outside our HQ, clearly waiting for Barnet."

"Copy that Boss." He glanced at Nell, all in control behind the wheel. She was so much more like a field agent than he was, but then, next to her, he had the feeling the two of them were in charge with this situation.

"East Imperial Highway. You should have visuals at the car right now, Eric." Ranisha said. "But I don't have a clue what this car looks like."

"Nell will switch lanes by now. Could you share your screens to my phone?"

"How do I do that?" Ranisha asked, and both of them recognized a sense of panic. "Oh wait. Miss Mosley is here right now. I will ask her."

There was some mumbling in the background and Eric shared a sight with Nell. "Keep driving," Eric said, and he tapped his earwig again and said "Ranisha? Keep talking please," Eric asked.

"Beale, this is Mosley. LAX may be the direction. I've got you on screen. Got a chopper up, as unseen as possible, so I've got live feed too, sending it over. Five cars between yours and Callen's. You're following a dark green Mercedes, sedan. No back-up team available yet, not in 10 minutes from now. No action required from you except following this car and stay discrete until my next instructions."

He nodded and after a nod of Nell, who listened to Mosley's orders too, he repeated 'Copy that, Boss."

* * *

 _thank you for reading. Do feel free to leave a review!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Pins, bullets and journals**

 **Chapter 14**

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much, all of you, who read and reviewed the previous chapter! In case I make some stupid mistakes in describing medical situations: I certainly am not an expert so all I do is check on the internet to find out as much as I can.

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names, locations or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill

* * *

~ No action required from you except following this car and stay discrete until my next instructions ~

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

Shay Mosley re-entered the office and went straight forward to the chest of drawers which was used as some kind of kitchen unit which the office lacked. She took an empty mug and asked "You want some coffee?"

Hetty shook her head. "No thank you dear. I'd better brew myself a pot of tea. That is, of course, when time is on our side." She pushed up her glasses just slightly and added "Thank you so much for what you did, so far. So, which team did you say are joining the youngsters?"

Mosley pulled her eyebrows together. "I didn't say anything about it at all, Lange. But since you ask… Bates is sending a team of the good LAPD guys to go and follow them. We may go and find out everyone's position."  
She poured herself a cup of coffee and offered another one, again, to the other woman. "Let's see how Ranisha can tell us about the route so far through the city."

This time, Hetty shook her head once again. "No coffee allowed in Ops, that's the rule. And frankly, Shay, I'd feel a lot better if we got on our feet and on the road again. No matter how soon or how late Roger Bates is able to assist us, there is no better place than to be in the field with so much going on. So, I suggest you take one of the faster cars, and let us plug in with Miss Singh's line as well."

An odd kind of smirk appeared on Mosley's face. She nodded and motioned the older woman to follow.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || 405 **

Mauro was a good driver — focused, driving never too fast, keeping in lane — anything to avoid drawing attention while on the road.

Riding shotgun was usually what Callen did, but not like now, hot like this. Moving was impossible, not even when he did his utmost. He wiggled a little on the car chair, but in vain, it was useless.

In the same weird high voice Mauro nearly chuckled "Don't worry about that. Relax. Moving is, well, overrated in your case." He took his cell phone and put it on a holder on the dashboard.  
All Callen discovered on it was the route they were driving on right now. So far, he hadn't seen the small black-and-white finish flag on the screen. Another place to wait? And if so, wait for what… Some kind of exchange, him for the information Hetty was to deliver? He seriously doubted it. It was more probable that Mauro simply followed orders from Paul Angelo, and that he was taking Callen to some final location simply to get rid of him. Again, it was impossible to struggle, or it had to be mentally.

Could it really be that this was it?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Vista del Mar**

\- _"Mosley?"_

\- "Yes, Eric?" It sounded less sharp. The distance was different, Eric assumed. Perhaps she was in the burner room, he figured..

 _"_ _How about that back-up team?"_

There was some humming and more background noises but then the reply came. - "Less than five minutes behind you. But may I remind you - no action to be taken without my permission."

 _"_ _But—"_

\- "Do you understand, Beale?"

"Sure. Yes, boss."

She tapped out the connection and Mosley shook her head. "You think it was a wise decision?" she asked her companion.

Henrietta Lange sat straight up in the passenger seat, though she hardly had a clear view over the dashboard and the hood of the large Ford, and she observed the traffic ahead. After a silent few moments, she replied "It was about the only choice you had. And in the end that was the choice you made, and it doesn't matter how hard it was to make it. It matters that you did."

Mosley exhaled through her nose in a huffing noise. Had she ever expected the former operations manager to be agreeing to any of her decisions? All she knew that Hetty Lange was good at this game and she would not give away all of her thoughts. Instead there were statements like this, which could make everyone guess what she really meant. And she had a point. It had been her own decision indeed to send in Eric Beale together with Nell Jones. She sighed and stated "But you're worried."

Hetty shook her head several times. "Why, of course I am. There's no way I can sit here and do some chit-chatting while the life of..." she hesitated another second then went on "well, the life of probably the best agent we have, is at stake. Or perhaps—" She didn't finish her sentence, and she shook her head again as she looked away.

"I understand." It sounded softer than usual and Hetty looked up in surprise when for a brief moment she felt Shay Mosley's hand pat hers. "And about those youngsters? I think they'll trust their training, Lange. They're stronger than we may think."

"Yes… Yes, they are."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Esplanade Street**

They had their car parked in the street. Not near the car they'd followed. Eric swallowed as he tried to get rid of the feeling something had awfully went wrong. He glanced at Nell and knew she wasn't off any better.  
"What do we do?"

She straightened her shoulders and sniffed a few times before she took her phone. "I'll call in. Mosley ordered us to do nothing until she gives any further instructions. So, let it be on her what we do next."  
Nell actually felt the same hesitations Eric had, she knew for sure. They'd followed the GPS-signal after all, the one Hetty had described, and now it came to a stop. They were just a few seconds later, but hadn't had a clear view at who left that car.

"Mosley? What do we do now? The car came to a stop in here. We're not sure who left this car or where they've gone. There's this apartment building, next to the Ballona Canal. I mean, Ballona Creek."  
If only they'd known. They drove through the city, followed the trace of the GPS while at the same time the Boatshed was right across the water, and so nearby from their point of view.

"Any chance you can find out from where you are if any of the owners of the apartments sound familiar?" Mosley asked in reply. Right now, she regretted having send the two people who could do miracles from their usual working place.

"I'll give it a try," she heard Eric say in the background. It didn't sound as confident as she'd liked, but it was all he could do and Shay Mosley understood it all too well.

"Thank you," she said. Mosley glanced at the woman sitting next to her and as she turned up the speed herself, she added "Please wait another five minutes, Jones. We'll be right there with you by then and carefully decide what to do, okay?"

She didn't wait for another reply but simply disconnected the call herself.

"You think this was a wise decision?" Hetty now asked her.

Mosley sighed, again, and answered "So far, it is my decision indeed. Tell me, what else is there to know?"

The older woman pursed her lips just a little. "Really… Paul Angelo is, or was, one of the better agents NCIS had. Until he went rogue. I expect he has a plan to receive the paperwork in here and has a plan to leave town. Perhaps by water."  
She let her thoughts go. Of course there were more scenario's. "Of course he may have his doubts about the delivery." Now it was her turn to sigh deeply. She had to think sharper than this. "The man always envied agent Callen. If —" She hesitated another short second "The moment he feels or hears that our deal went south, Angelo won't hesitate. An eye for an eye. His part of the deal will be worthless too, and he let me know what this means. We need to hurry, Shay. We may be running out of time."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Esplanade Street || five minutes later **

Shay Mosley halted and parked the car right behind the one in which Nell and Eric were still sitting, obviously concentrating on a what they saw on the screen which Eric held.

She announced herself by a tap on the window of the driver's seat. "What have we got?"

Nell looked up, surprised to see Mosley standing next to Hetty, both serious faces. She shrugged. "All apartments are owned property, except for two in the middle. Those are rentals, both occupied though."

"And how would you know, my dear?" Hetty asked her youngest pupil.

"As easy as one-two-three…" Eric responded in return. "I tried, at the central entrance. Pressed the numbers. One was an older man. A couple, I suppose, since the name plate said 'Hamilton family'. The other one was a family. Something from the east, Tran. There were kids in the background singing with a man, with a television programme."

"I thought I told you to wait until there's a back-up team available."

Mosley's words were rather harsh, and Eric knew she was right and he was reddening when he replied "You did… we did, I did… I mean, it's not that I went in, shooting or anything, right? I did what you wanted us to do, find out more about the owners of these apartments."

Nell just nodded with the words Eric spoke. "Nothing stands out when it comes to those owners nor the apartments, Ma'am." She now licked her lips. "The back-up team… are they on their way?"

"Oh noes, Miss Jones. For the time being, it is just the two of us," Hetty replied, more worried than ever.  
Unlike she was used to, the communication between Mosley and her team was ever so detached. Without the warmth and understanding she was afraid there might come one day members of this A team would simply rise in revolt and leave, and she feared what that would mean. Some things had to change, and if she could still have a say in that, she certainly would. But then, if something seriously bad had happened to Callen, she feared it was the end of this team anyhow. The sorrow hit her all of a sudden and she was lost for words too, something she wasn't used to either.

"LAPD will be here, ETA 5 min from now. Now I suggest the two of you get out and start investigate that car, starting with the trunk."

Eric's eyes widened. "Really? But what if…"

"You heard me. All part of the field work, Beale."

"Is it?" Hetty said. "I must say, this can wait, assistant director. I suggest we leave this to the next team to arrive. How about a quick visual around, then decide what to do next. Besides, Ranisha still has eyes on the GPS, hasn't she?"

Nell confirmed. "It still is moving but slowly. Nearby."

Hetty observed the surroundings. The Del Rey Lagoon, the pier further in the water, with the bike path, the yachts sailing in and out the Marina. The few cars that were parked near theirs.

Another car approaching them, and the sudden flash from where the sunlight caught metal and mirrored.

"Sniper!" She pointed. Useless. Several shots were fired. Not towards them, but they hit the dark colored Mercedes minivan that came driving their way.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Esplanade Street || matters of minutes later **

It wasn't that often that he was in a moving car and be on the receiving end of catching bullets. Not able to be firing back, not being in charge, hell, not even being able to dive away from the glass splintering completely to these front seats. Whether he was lucky not be shot between the eyes, like Mauro, Callen didn't know.  
Then again, there was no way to intervene. Tires exploded, just like Mauro's brain had exploded, but somehow Mauro's foot remained solidly put on the pedal.

In a millisecond he noted the familiar faces he passed. The van was uncontrollable by now. Callen noticed the yellow 'end of road' sign as the car headed to the sloppy construction fence, hit and crashed it. Unstoppable, the canal was ahead and the car plunged into the cold water.

Airbags deployed in front of his face, then deflated in the same second so it seemed.

Fact was that he knew all too well what may happen next. If he was able to move, Callen knew he needed to wait to get into action until this car would be submerged and filled with water, so there was no more resistance to open doors or windows.  
Fact was that he was not able to move.  
Fact was that Mauro wasn't either, and the one who shot Mauro probably never had the intention that anyone would get out of this car.  
Fact was that water entered fast, so much faster than it should, because the windshield was blown away by the shot and the crash immediately after  
Fact was that he had no choice at all but to let it all happen.

He exhaled the smallest amounts of air, and was all too aware that he needed all the air there was, but there wasn't any. His body screamed for more, his lungs started burning and his brain told him he wouldn't get what he needed.

He wondered if he had the guts to let it go, to just stop the struggle and give up. He wasn't panicking, not yet.  
But being able to only breath out through his nose made it difficult. Time went by — seconds probably — but it was a strange experience that there were so many thoughts in those seconds.  
It was useless to think, useless to fight too. Then his body automatically took over the brain and somehow he gasped for air, but only water entered, which he could not exhale. His lungs hurt and his head ached and his whole being struggled. He blinked his eyes slowly and despite the fact that he was still solidly tied to the car chair, he felt himself drift away without a possibility to fight it any longer.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Jones. With me."

Nell simply nodded and followed the assistant director straight into the building Hetty had indicated.

Eric and Hetty gazed at the two leaving. More cars coming their way; the cavalry had arrived and for another few seconds, they stood and observed. Then Hetty started ordering around. "Two of us are up already." To one of the men who remained with them, she said "Ask for ambulances too, ASAP." Then finally she asked two more to go and check the car which they all followed. She didn't want to admit that it was a task she wasn't going to able to do herself. Just... well, just in case.

Feeling the one who was unable to act, Eric slowly followed the track of the car, then made his decision. He dropped his shoes and shrugged out of the blouse he wore, then let himself sink into the cold ocean water which streamed in this Ballona Creek.

* * *

 _Thanks again for reading!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

Authors Note: This could be the final chapter of this storyline indeed. Could be, but it isn't…  
Anyway, thank you so much, once again, for helping me with writing this and making me want to finish the story too. Thank you too for leaving your reviews, Wotumba1, Mulderette, n4d1n3, Guests (both of you !), sherrib1968, Linda Wigington and LostForeverInHisEyes. I really, really appreciate those!

There was the question why Sam, Kensi and Deeks are not around in this story, which was explained in the very first chapter: ["Sam's with Kam and you know that. Densi... I mean Deeks and Kensi are somewhere in the Wyoming bush-bush."]

* * *

 _Feeling that he was the one who was unable to act, Eric slowly followed the track of the car, then made his decision. He dropped his shoes and shrugged out of the blouse he wore, then let himself sink into the cold ocean water which streamed in this Ballona Creek._

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Esplanade Street || same minute**

The very small and older woman stood alone in the now nearly deserted street and wondered what all went on.  
Nell Jones and Shay Mosley, on their ways inside the apartment block, hoping to meet with the shooter, and perhaps with Callen too. Both Nell and Mosley were hardly armed though, and she shook her head. Going in head over heels meant they were not properly prepared, nor did they carefully assess all scenario's — a mistake Hetty Lange would not have her agents have made, not the skilled, elite team she worked with, nor the ones she trained.

Then there was the other rookie junior agent, Eric Beale, who had in fact such great skills behind the screens and behind the scenes. She wasn't too sure of his skills in the field. Not without a proper back up.  
Yet, he disappeared in the cold water of the canal. She hadn't approved any action like his, but she figured Eric had felt the need to do something.

She nodded — she felt the same need. Even now, with the LAPD reinforcement around, it didn't mean the danger was gone. On the contrary. From where she stood, she noticed that the material of the shooter was still around. If that went for the shooter himself too, she couldn't tell. Again, she shook her head. Bates had sent only six men. The two of them who had checked the car Nell and Eric followed had followed the others and went to check the building for anything or anyone suspicious.

Indeed, she was past the age to be in the field. Still, she figured she still had skills and the smallest of a smile hinted her face. It wouldn't be that wrong to be prepared for whatever could come her way. Yes, she sure would feel relieved if the other members of her famous team were around, but she knew that Shay Mosley never chose to warn them and order them back, and by now that would be useless as well. Not that it was something she had a say in, not any longer.

Like in every agency-car this one had the material agents needed. It included guns too, and she was glad to find what she expected to find.

Hetty made another call to the office and nodded several times at the message of the communications officer, Ranisha Singh, who mentioned that the GPS signal stopped, somewhere at a few yards from where Hetty made this call. Nothing much to do for the woman in the headquarters of the LA office for NCIS, and so Hetty thanked her and disconnected the call.

From a distance she heard sirens, but if that meant more people came their way, she didn't know.

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. What if six LAPD officers, a junior NCIS agent and the assistant director of NCIS were all looking for something or someone they weren't finding? It might mean that there was only one person looking at the right spot – Eric Beale…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Esplanade Street || Ballona Creek**

The most curious things went through his head. He was in murky waters, well, wasn't that just as literal as it was a matter of saying? Perhaps he went into the water far too impulsive, but then, Eric Beale figured it may be worthwhile to see if there was anything he could do for those who were in this car.

Without his glasses it was just a little more difficult. He saw the back of the van, no trouble at all. Yet it was impossible to enter the car from that way. In a few more strokes he swam around the car, driver's seat. He did try the door and much to his surprise it was easy to open.

There was no way though the driver had tried himself, since the guy hadn't been able to do anything at all. The large hole in his head proved it and the water was just dirtier and darker in here. Being in a situation like this made him sick. He needed fresh air, went up and breathed out some times before he took another deep breath and submerged again.

Even in the dark water, even without his glasses, Eric saw that his choice to go under water had been the right one. He recognize the person in the passenger seat in a millisecond and was about to gasp, still knew that was useless. He pulled the door open and reached forward to unbuckle the man, yet in vain, since he found the seatbelts weren't used. 'Damn…'  
The lead agent sat in the passenger seat, but how? Eric let his fingers go and follow the shoulder and arm, then felt the restraints. He cursed inwardly. He needed something sharp and he needed it fast.

Again, he went up, breathed in as deep as he could, and got down as fast as he dared. Then, the let his hands roam the dashboard, the console and finally the headliner until he found what he was looking for — a life hammer. In only a few cuts he managed to release his co-worker from the trapped position he was in. All he hoped for was that he was in time. With his left arm hooked behind Callen's shoulder he dragged and pulled until he knew he had a good grip and with only two strong strokes, he emerged and he kept kicking his legs, panting and huffing of the effort it took to keep himself and the dead weight of his colleague above the surface.

He managed a combination of a shout and a gasp "Help!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She turned to where she heard his voice and inhaled sharply — the younger man being the strong one right now, keeping himself above the surface, as he managed to do the same with him… Callen. The man whom she loved like a son. If only…

Her thoughts were roughly interrupted by some shots which were definitely fired at Eric, or rather at the immobile man he tried to heave out of the water.

Hetty Lange spun around to where she sensed a gun was shot at the men. From her position it was impossible to fire back, but somebody else did and after shots either way, she heard some cries of pain and the shooting stopped.

So far, she didn't know who was shot. All she knew was that one of the usual office guys, the one that her outstanding team built on, was in a position where once again, she counted on, although his task was so very different from what she'd seen before.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

By now, Eric was exhausted. But what troubled him most was that he was really scared. There was the fear to be shot at again. To actually feel the ripple of a bullet in the water, hitting his coworker's body. Fear he wasn't able to save Callen's life after all, that it was too late. He even was scared to find out himself.

Once he had the strength to hoist the immobile agent from the cold water, he was glad there were three uniformed LAPD officers nearby to give him a hand.  
The first one tore off the piece of duct tape that covered Callen's mouth, something Eric had missed. Another man lowered down. He placed his ear near the senior agent's mouth and nose. It obviously worried the man as he started pressing two fingers in Callen's nick, then shook his head. "Nothing."

Eric heard the sharp gasp. Was it Hetty's or his own? He didn't know.  
"CPR," he said, noticing how his teeth were chattering. He'd help, once his own breathing would be back to normal. Until then, there were two of lieutenant Bates' men taking care of the lead agent's life. The third man guarded the surroundings, not sure if the one who was responsible for what happened would still be around, nor if there were more than this single person.

Eric stood and watched how the man gave some one-second mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, followed by some chest compressions. This was repeated several times, until the second guy exhaled deeply. "His chest is moving again, Peter. It looks like he's breathing in!"

The other officer checked and nodded. He then turned Callen's head more to the side. It worked, as water drained from Callen's mouth and some deep and wheezing sounds came from the lead agent. Still, his eyes stayed close and he remained unconscious.

Then everyone started to talk at the same time. "He's bleeding." "So he was hit?" Eric nodded his confirmation. "How bad?" one of the others asked, while the answer came immediately after "A graze, I figure."

"Hetty… I'm so—"  
Eric didn't have the chance to really express himself, since Hetty simply shook her head. She looked sad though and her voice faltered in an unusual way. "This is not on you, Mr. Beale. On the contrary, from what I've seen and heard, you have done all you can. Never doubt that."

"But... you know he was shot. Again. And what if he's been without oxygen too long?"

"What ifs don't count, and we all know that." Her petite hand rested on his forearm in a rare act of a personal touch and she continued "Still, I do understand your worries, Eric." She shook her head several times, unable to hide her own shock with all she had seen in only a few minutes.  
By now, the sirens were getting closer. Ambulances. She couldn't even remember who called them in, but it didn't matter either — it was perfectly clear that Callen needed medical help. And Henrietta Lange never was the one to be without the ability to order around.

"I suggest you will join Mr. Callen while he's on his way to hospital, Mr. Beale." How she did it, Eric didn't know but she offered him a dry shirt, a jacket and a gun. He frowned, pushed his glasses higher and simply nodded. He could do that. After all, Callen was alive, and he, Eric Bartholomew Beale, would make sure he would stay alive.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital, one and half an hour later**

The executive assistant director sat straight up in one of the uncomfortable waiting chairs and broke the silence after the first greetings. "We didn't catch him, but I know for sure we've hit him," Mosley said. "But I think this Paul Angelo won't be around, not any longer. Jones and Beale will be able to find him, I guess."

"You guess. Assumptions. So, how long have you been in the business, Shay? Guesses don't work. We need zero doubts, which in this case you haven't been able to give," Hetty replied. She paused a bit and got on her feet, pacing to the large doors which still remained closed. She turned and slowly paced back to where Mosley was waiting too. "By the way, did you send the youngsters back to the office?"

"I did. After all, that's their usual habitat, right?"

"If you mean that our office is the place where they perform best, I can only agree with you. However, from my point of view, Miss Jones is marvelous in the field, despite the fact she may feel more at ease when there's no-one around to rely on her capabilities as a field agent. Which reminds me — you did take her along inside this apartment building rather unprepared. No vests, no previous briefing, running into whatever situation you may meet, perhaps carelessly."

A huff sounded from the younger woman. "Henrietta… I'm no rookie. And well, you weren't around when your favorite agent decided to go in this hostage situation without any back-up at all, running blindly into danger. We wouldn't be here if—"

"We would. Differently perhaps, but Angelo always would've found a way. He still may be," Hetty cut her off.

Both of them then looked up when Doctor Lee opened the door from the operation area and came their way. "Miss Lange, long time no see," he smiled as he greeted the petite woman. "He hasn't been in here for quite a long time, actually."

"No, he hasn't," Hetty agreed. "Not in here. However—"

The senior Asian physician closed his eyes for a beat before he replied, more or less interrupting Hetty's words "Indeed. It would've been so much better if he'd taken the time to heal properly."

"Really, this wasn't his own doing."

"So, he saved the city, once again? From what I figure, this must've been the second time in less than a week, while he was hardly back in the field? There's no need to tell me though, but let me explain. Your man practically drowned. True, CPR helped. His lungs suffered from this action, however. It doesn't help that his left lung was hardly healed from an earlier pneumothorax, I assume less than three months ago?"

"Nine weeks ago," Mosley agreed, remembering in which condition Callen came back to Los Angeles.

The doctor pursed his lips, not too happy with this confession. "The danger is that after such a pneumothorax, the lung may be damaged indefinitely. We will need to keep an close eye on its development indeed, although there's nothing we can do to improve its condition." He sighed, looked around and wondered why the large friend and partner of this man wasn't around, but he decided not to ask. He continued. "I expect that during the resuscitation, someone pressed his chest with quite some force. As they should, of course. However, in Mr. Callen's situation, it worsened a physical situation. Perhaps one cares to explain, but what we needed to do was to operate on his clavicle, which was completely ruined. Also, we removed a bullet."

"That's correct. He was admitted—" Mosley shook her head, counting back in days and concluded it was absurd indeed. She continued "Three days ago, he was shot and one of the surgeons from UCLA discussed this matter with him. As long as he took the time to rest, the wound would heal and the bone would keep the bullet inside. That is how the outcome should have been." She heaved a deep sigh.

Hetty continued "He was, however, tortured rather unexpectedly. I suppose something went wrong with the period of rest he was supposed to have."

"I see," Dr. Lee said. "In fact, the bone and its surroundings suffered too much from either situation. No rest, torture and odd enough from a lifesaving act as well. What we deal with right now is a serious matter of an infected shoulder joint. You may understand, Hetty and Miss?"

"Mosley. The name is Mosley, Shay Mosley," the other woman said.

"Mosley, Hetty, you may understand that there were complications other than I expected. Hetty, your boy needs a time off and I think you should grant him that."

Mosley shook her head. "That's on me, I suppose." And she explained, more or less to Hetty as well.

* * *

 _to be continued… Please leave a review, it's much appreciated!_

 _Kni®benrots_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Pins, Bullets and Journals**

* * *

A/N: Again, thank you so much for reading this story and letting me know whether or not you like it. Please do enjoy what comes next. And yep, it's a short chapter only. Ran out of inspiration, and am struggling on the next part.

Kni®benrots

* * *

 _Disclaimer:_ All incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except the team of NCIS Los Angeles which was carefully composed by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill. I gladly use them for this story.

* * *

 _Mosley shook her head. "That's on me, I suppose." And she explained, more or less to Hetty as well._

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital**

Mosley's gaze went to the former Operations Manager of NCIS in the city and back to the surgeon as she continued. "Agent Callen was hurt badly during an unauthorized and off the book mission in Mexico. In fact, he came back with a punctured lung, internal bleedings and a broken vertebrae. He… well, he was worse off than anyone else. The other team members worked hard to get the case load low, and once agent Callen was back up, he had a lot of paper work to catch up with. I figured… well, actually I allowed the others to take some time off, while he dealt with files and with medical updates, physical tests and checkups with a PT, until he was fit for field work again. I hoped and assumed, that he'd start once the others of the team came back. So it was only him who was around."

"Recovering is something quite different from having some time off. It's hard work too." Hetty shook her head, detesting the idea itself. Still, she boxed the thought for the time being. "Angelo must've got word about that and decided this was the perfect time."

"You may understand that to me, as a surgeon, it matters less why decisions were made. And even less how you run your office, either of you. However, it is important to know he was wounded like you just clarified. From what I can tell is that a near-drowning mostly causes a pneumonia. Now this comes very, very shortly after the previous lung damage, called a pneumothorax. In order to prevent complications we need to keep him ventilated for as long as it takes. Already, a severe inflammation set in."

"Not good," Hetty agreed.

"It isn't. Not with all the other wounds his body recently endured. The same goes for the bullet which remained in the bone, like it was explained by you. Due to torture or the accident he had, it kind of escaped the bone structure, leaving the clavicle beyond repairable. We replaced the collarbone, by one made of carbon fiber," Lee told the women. "To let everything heal, including the shoulder, tendons and muscles, I decided to use a shoulder cast."

"He won't like that," Hetty said. "However, I understand your decision, Mr. Lee."

The surgeon acknowledged her consideration and concluded "All we can do is wait and see how your agent is healing, both physical and mentally." He shook hands with Mosley and embraced the small yet strong woman whom he'd met often. Too often, in fact.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital – some hours later**

 _He struggled to breath in once again, but failed. Something blocked his throat and Callen remembered he was drowning. He flinched, yet it was impossible to move his upper body and the panic hit in, again and harder than before. He started sweating, scared to open his eyes to face his faith._

 _No matter how hard he wanted to ignore his feeling of fear, something else caught his attention too —bleeps. A bomb? The beeps were continuous. Never too steady. It sounded erratic and it reminded him how close he had been to escape from Angelo's hands. He wanted to sigh, but again, there was no room to do so. He couldn't breathe in and he finally gave up.  
His will to fight this fear simply wasn't there. Sam would have manage to save anyone in situations like this, even him. Both from drowning and by disassembling a bomb. But he remembered Sam wasn't around. So now all was lost. Everyone was too late.  
Callen gladly sank back into the oblivion of unconsciousness._

It was nearly scary to be around and have to watch. "He's struggling. Hetty, is he really okay?" Eric asked the older woman in a hushed voice. He actually didn't want to be in here too long, but with the absence of company for Hetty, he had agreed to come. Both of them sat next to Callen's bed.

Hetty slowly nodded. "The anesthesia is leaving his body. Never a nice sight, but he probably won't remember a thing, Mr. Beale. And he will be alright, you and I have to trust that."

"How can you be so sure?" the Tech wanted to know. He simply had to ask. Deep down he felt guilty. Guilty for being the first and only one who informed Callen what was going on, and for being nearly too late to save the other man from drowning. For having him being shot. For not being the one who actually bring the team leader back to the land of the living.

"How can I be so sure?" Hetty smiled at Eric. "Because, young man, I refuse to believe differently. I saw him, back then in Mexico —".

Eric's eyes widened. "You were there?!"

Hetty nodded. "Why, of course, Mr. Beale. You should know better than me not checking my team." She shook her head and said "Sure, I am aware of the fact that NCIS' Executive Assistant Director for Pacific Operations Shay Mosley runs the office at this very moment, but rest assured I still consider all of you to be part of 'my' team. So, where were we, Mr. Beale? Right… as I said, he looked much worse in Mexico. And before, remember the fifth of May?"

"Of course I do. We all do."

"Indeed. We all do. He's in a much better condition at this point than he was back then, I dare to think."

Eric hummed softly. All he remembered from back then was that he'd hated to visit the hospital back then and that he worked behind the screens a much as he could, just to avoid, well, scenes like these. Both fell silent for a moment, until Eric asked "How... how do they do... this?" he gestured at Callen, at the bed, the machines. "Sam says Callen hates needles, and that Callen most likely escaped hospitals more often than anyone else. But he never hesitated to hurry to help those innocent kids. I think though that he knew it might be dangerous."

She nodded slowly in agreement. "This is what we do… It is not a real choice he made, it is some sort of nature one has to have. And of course, Mr. Beale, there is no earthy way he knows exactly when he walks straight into the lion's den or not. But you and I both know how Mr. Callen detests vulnerability and helplessness and he will get restless once he's able to walk around. It probably has got to do with his youth. He's not known for being the most patient patient."

Her voice was rather sad, Eric thought. But then, he remembered the very first moment he saw Callen re-entering the new headquarters, after the shooting all those years ago in May, the special bond Callen and Hetty was obvious. Only later they all heard it dated from earlier years. Of course she was worried, perhaps even more than he himself was. Then another thought crossed his mind.  
"This vulnerability you were talking about… You think he's still at large? And if so — it goes for you too Hetty. How are we going to deal with that?"

A snorting chuckle came from the older woman and for the briefest moment Eric wondered if his question had sounded stupid in Hetty's opinion. Her reply however didn't come, since her attention went to Callen, who started to stir and shiver.

 _He heard the voices in a strange and muffled way. If only he was able to warn them. Perhaps they could help… The beeps still were around. If only he could get help. He knew he had to try harder._

He opened his eyes and much to his relief he saw Eric sitting next to Hetty.

"Mr. Callen… it's good to see you back with us," Hetty smiled.

He wanted to answer, but simply couldn't. It took a few seconds before he finally realized why. Callen shook his head and touched the tube, distressed because of the fact he couldn't talk and that, with every swallow, he felt the unnatural material move.

"It's okay… You're okay," Eric said in his usual optimistic style. "Never mind, you know what? I'll get someone to look at that — that thing."  
He got up in a rush and left the room.

* * *

 _This story is going to end, the final chapter is next to come._


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

 **Pins, bullets and journals**

* * *

 _A/N Well, here we are: another chapter of this storyline and indeed, it took a while to finish it. Real life was a bitch these last few weeks… And in fact, I forgot to thank those who reviewed lately. So let me thank you for reading & reviewing it so far. All your input inspired me to continue, and every single input you left was a small gift and encouragement to me!_  
Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects **

"So?" Nell raised her brows as she addressed Shay Mosley. Since no reply came, she continued "So… I suggest I will call this in with Eric."

Mosley simply cocked her head before she flicked her chin immediately after. "There's no need to do so, Jones. All in all there's nothing really new to mention, is there?"

"There is, since you're asking." Nell breathed in, eager to talk as she was noticing how Mosley was about to interrupt once again. "And I know we don't have much to tell, but in my opinion Eric and Hetty might want to know we found a jacket which definitely was worn by Paul Angelo, since we discovered the small GPS-tracker belonging to our own agency. Callen must've—"

No matter she wanted to continue, Mosley simply overruled her explanation. "As I said, no real need yet. This is only process information you have. I suggest you go and try and find out where this former colleague of yours is right now and see to it there's a full report to brief, instead of those little bits and pieces and possibilities."

"Right," Nell said. She paused a few seconds, hoping that Mosley would come with something else after all. The other woman, however, had taken the small, orange, leaflet from her desk and turned her attention to what she read and she shook her head again.  
At this very moment Nell wished she never showed her superior this journal. It didn't matter any longer, since Callen was back and they all knew Paul Angelo was behind it all. Nell now exhaled as slowly as she could, trying to release the tension she felt. Without the usual team around she felt alone and it was as if she had let someone into the privacy of the lead agent without him having a say in it. Now she wondered if Callen were to blame her.

"Right," Nell repeated. She slowly shook her head too and mumbled a 'thanks anyway'. She then turned and trotted out of Mosley's glass office, closing the door without any other greet.

After she left the office, Nell went straight to their usual workplace, where she sat down and stared at the screens where Kaleidoscope footage was shown next to all agencies' intel. Still, she couldn't focus. She didn't really know how to put it in words but it was something like complete disappointment. It was not what she was used to, not the way the team worked. And frankly, she didn't give a damn, not anymore, about Mosley's order. Right here and now, she promised herself it wasn't what she was going to work either.

She got up on her feet, took her tablet and put it into her large purse. Whatever she planned, it was going to be another unauthorized operation. Or well, unauthorized by their boss. She chuckled to herself, grabbed her phone and called her partner.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital**

It wasn't Lee, the usual physician, who came over to help and explain, but a younger and unknown doctor. Callen didn't really pay attention to what appeared an endless list of injuries which the doctor told him about. It would only cause new scars on his body. Worse was the news that his lungs were damaged once again.

The removal of the ventilator was painful - as expected. It totally wore him out. Thinking of what had happened was something he tried to ban from his mind although, being honest to himself, he knew it might cause some nightmares too.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"So Nell says the tracker was found on the third floor of the apartment. The same floor from where, uhm, from where she figured the shooting took place," Eric explained.

He wasn't too sure whether or not Callen was paying attention to what he said, but Hetty was. Eric noticed how the petite, older and former Operations Manager sat quietly next to Callen's bed. Only half an hour ago, the breathing tube was taken out and replaced by a smaller oxygen cannula.  
Minutes ago, the other man had closed his eyes. He still wasn't in the best shape, Eric saw. He hardly saw the experienced senior agent so still and pale. He genuinely worried about Callen, but Eric also knew there wasn't anything he could really do to help him now he was at a hospital.

Hetty just hummed — she understood. She also sensed the worry of the young man. After all, it mostly was Sam who was around whenever Callen was hospitalized, never Eric unless it was to peek around the corner or took a turn when one of the field agents needed a break. "Don't be surprised if he will be running a fever too, Mr. Beale. It's going to be a nasty battle of his body against infections. He'll be alright."

He shook his head, still not too sure. "As I mentioned before… before Callen woke, what should we do in case Paul Angelo is around to try and do something to him, or to you? What if Angelo does come after you, Hetty. I mean, we all know you can look after yourself or find a place to stay put. But what if he hears about Callen in here. I mean... look at him."

His voice croaked "Not dead — or deaf... Beale."

Sure, speaking the words took more energy than he expected and he was beyond exhausted after the previous action and the assaults. Still he heard Eric's question and the concern in the words and it reminded Callen that his team wasn't around. He sighed but forgot his lungs were weak at the moment. The pain in his chest caught him by surprise and it caused a cough which was even more painful.

"You okay?" Eric asked, not sure how the older man whom he considered some kind of tv hero went through the agony of getting shot, tortured and drowning in a couple of days only.

After a silent minute Callen managed a short nod. He carefully inhaled. "Angelo?" He breathed out.

"Disappeared," Eric said.

"Although your supervisor insists she saw he was being shot... but then he fired a shot at you and Mr. Beale too," Hetty added. "It minorly hit you, luckily, young man. It's what they call 'a graze' only and I must say I can agree to that. You might have wanted to tell me you were wounded already, but somehow you didn't."

She loved the immediate smile he sent her. He was perhaps the only one who appreciated her mothering the agents, notwithstanding the anger he'd shown towards her in the past.

"Eric?"

"Nêh. I'm okay, Callen. Shocked though about the shape you were in when I found you."

"Thanks." There were more, much more, words he wanted to express his gratefulness to Eric. But not now. The energy left his body once again.

"Indeed, you should try to rest a little, Mr. Callen," Hetty said.  
Inwardly she shook her head. 'A little'… why hadn't Mosley allowed him some time off? Henrietta Lange knew that Callen was Callen, and he hardly showed his deeper thoughts, needs or frustrations. If, when, the office wanted to keep such an excellent agent around, he should be permitted to have a relaxing leave as well. Even though he said he wouldn't need it, Hetty knew he did.

Although Eric already left the room, Hetty stayed around for a while. The pain lines nearly invisible now he quietly slept and he looked so much younger. Innocent too. Once again she wished this man would be happy. Instead, his life was difficult so to say, no matter her own efforts.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Soft buzzing noises reached his ears and he finally recognized the voices of his co-workers. He'd slept, rested without the usual nightmares or the pain he expected. His eyes still closed he wondered how long he really had been off.  
"You... just — sit 'n watch — me sleep?" he asked. Callen hated the feeling of being breathless but at least he grinned at how the three of them who sat next to him, Nell, Eric and Hetty, stopped talking and moved their attention to him.

"Now that, Mr. Callen, is what one calls a cat-nap. Please do promise me you are going to get more sleep next time, will you?" Hetty addressed him, without telling him she actually had watched him even though she discussed serious matters with Nell and Eric.

His smile was less confident this time. Sleeping and resting - it didn't really fit him. Never mind he now longed for a relaxed night in his own bed, though. But in here, with the smells and sounds he detested, the never-ending row of people entering the cube and the knowledge that strangers and friends were observing every single move, wince or twitch of him... nope, definitely far from being able to relax.

Too tired though to feel and discuss his sleep habits, he coughed a few times. "What's it you talk about?"

"Well then, since you're asking, Mr. Callen, it is about our safety, yours and mine, since we don't know where to find Angelo. And while we know he has many allies in many different places there is no way thus far we have any clues about his whereabouts."

"All we know that he was hit. Or well, that was what Mosley concluded," Nell said. "Although we don't know how seriously we're checking if he checked in with any hospitals, ER-rooms and what's more."

Eric pushed up his glasses and nodded softly. "If he isn't there, he will be looking for you, I guess. He knows you were hospitalized. And I just mentioned that he may remember how Hetty usually has her people administered in here."

"You expect him. Or wanna —" he breathed in and continued, "more 'r less invite'm?" He smirked "Let's try."

"You saying you want to... you lay here and be a sitting duck?" Nell shook her head, amazed by his suggestion.

Eric grinned and locked eyes with Callen "I love fishing. Especially with good bait."  
The Tech understood and Callen appreciated this unknown side of his younger coworker. Eric continued "I mean, I could leave unseen, come back and ask for Hetty and you. If he's around or has ears and eyes around the administration desk, he'll be in here in no time."

Nell shook her head. "And what you plan to do then?"

"I need a gun," Callen said.

"Ahum." Of course Hetty uttered her thoughts. She let her gaze go over the man in the hospital bed. The previous paleness of his skin changed into a healthier look. Which, she knew, meant the worst was yet to come. "You, Mr. Callen, are in no position to use a gun at all."

He closed his eyes for a brief second and shook his head. "Need to protect myself, Hetty. I can shoot… righthanded, remember?"

She looked at the seasoned agent, who had met so many evil in his life already. The way he was positioned in this cube was exactly in the right angle. Anyone who entered would figure this man was completely helpless. If he aimed at uninvited guests, it would startle the person indeed. Added to that, he looked completely deffenseless. The electrodes, the continuing beeps, the IV… It might work and she knew it.

"You — Nell and you can be out of sight. Help me."

"Oh goodness me… Well now, Mr. Callen. I must say I am not amused by the thought and idea itself, but ever since I cannot think of anything better at all." The former operations manager sighed deeply before she spoke again. "So, Mr. Beale, I suggest you start and get into action indeed. And please do remember to take everything which is necessary back in. Meanwhile I will discuss this matter with Dr. Lee. After all this plan is not lightly to be executed in a hospital at all. And you, Miss Jones, please run through everything we've been talking about once again with Mr. Callen in here."  
She got on her feet, nodded at the three younger agents and left this cubicle. She'd explain to Mosley later on. Perhaps the plan wouldn't work, so why worry beforehand?

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Your reviews are welcome, as ever!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Pins, Bullets and Journals**

 **Chapter 18**

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 **Disclaimer** : anyone who reads knows all too well that none of the characters belong to me. I may feel sad about that, but it is what it is… Thanks once again, CBS for lending them for the purpose of an easy read.

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 **Author's note** : Thank you for reading. For those who still had the nerve to wait for another update: I'm so very sorry for the enormous delay. Plot bunnies left, real life took most of my energy and time. All I can say is I'm so very grateful for all your patience, reviews and comments. I sincerely hope you will like this final chapter and the way the story comes to an end.  
A shout-out to anyone tuning in later: a review is very welcome, as ever!

Kni®benrots

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital**

"Mr. Lee... there's a very delicate matter I want to discuss with you," Hetty said.

The older physician nodded "Why don't you join me? I've got a feeling it may be better to talk about it in private." He gestured to the small room near the nurses station and Hetty gratefully followed.

After Lee sat down behind his desk Hetty took the other chair and did the same.

"I suppose it's got to do with your agent and his safety?" Lee sent a curious look at the aged woman opposite of his desk.

"Indeed it is," Hetty confirmed. "Now, you see, there is him and an endless list of enemies. As for one of them, well, we expect he will pay a visit any time soon. This man is responsible for my agent being in here and until now he remained beyond our reach. In fact, we want to bring him in and it may or may not happen in here. You will understand that whenever he shows up, which we may want him to do, it will be about the only way to arrest him. However, as you will understand, an operation like this matter is far from usual in a hospital."

"It is. Of course you'll understand I'm not happy with a plan like this, on the contrary, I think I should discuss it with our management and have security alerted."

Hetty nodded and pursed her lips just slightly. "Although in ordinary situations I would agree, in this case I have my serious doubts. We wouldn't want alert this person, you see. It would alarm him and we'd lose him, which would make him even more dangerous. Perhaps you should have your personnel evacuated, rather sooner than later."

Lee shook his head. "Impossible. There are patients in here who need care. As does your agent, Miss Lange. Have you discussed this matter with him?"

"But of course, and we are preparing for action already. Although most of the usual team are temporarily unavailable, the few who are around are ready for any situation which may occur."

"Nonetheless I am against this plan."

"Until now it is neither a plan, nor a situation. Yet. What I want you to be aware of is that it may happen and the smallest of team I have available in here are prepared. What I want to know is how we — which includes you and your team — can prepare."  
She could debate with the surgeon like this without them agreeing with each other, but time kept creeping by and all she wanted to was to stay with her people and have Lee be prepared to keep his people out of sight and out of harm's way.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She glanced at the man in the hospital bed. Bruises, scrapes, cuts... the oxygen mask. Callen's eyes were closed and she shook her head. She couldn't imagine what he went through in only a little more than a week, even though she knew, understood the facts from what she saw or heard during these days. She feared that one day it would be too late to save him. Not now. Not on her watch, she pleaded in silence.

"I'm okay, Nell."

Her eyes widened and she stammered "You are? Yes... of course you are."  
He always said he was, and he was a fighter, a survivor. Hadn't he been the one who taught her to trust her training? And yes, wasn't he her mentor and the one she trusted with her life? He would always have her back in the field or Eric's, Sam's, Deeks' and Kensi's. Now this was what happened when Sam was not around.  
"I'm sorry, Callen."

"For what?"

Before she had the chance to reply her phone rang.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

In the elevator on his way down Eric pondered on the plan they discussed. If Angelo was as predictable as they thought all would go right, albeit risky as well. Callen might think he'd be able to defend himself, but Eric seriously doubted it.

As he went farther down to the ground floor, Eric saw the plan worked – but too well. Angelo was ascending and closer than expected. 'Hetty — Nell' he needed to warn them. First, the one who Paul Angelo wanted revenge on.  
"Hetty? He's here, already. You'd better go and hide, he should already be there."

He didn't await her reply, just disconnected, jumped out of the lift and - as there was no other one to go up again he took the stairs. "Nell! He's here. Get ready!"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He read her face and knew trouble was around. The expression on his face grew grim. "How long?"

She didn't have to explain, got on her feet while grabbing her gun. "A minute or so."

"Damn," he swore. "No gun."  
With some effort he breathed in as deep as he could and looked around for some kind of weapon. Too late, he knew it because by the sound of footsteps coming nearer. Seconds later, he saw Paul Angelo stepping in through the door with his gun ready to shoot.

"Federal agent! Drop your gun!" Nell's words came out less self-assured than she had wanted to.

There was some kind of rare chuckle from Paul Angelo and he shook his head. "You'd better carefully lay aside yours, little girl."

"Take the shot, Nell" Callen breathed and for a while it looked as if Nell would just do so.

Then she slowly kneeled and put down her gun. With Angelo having the upper hand she had no choice but to do what he wanted and she did what he wanted, figuring Paul Angelo was faster than she'd be. Too late she understood that by now she would be just as defenseless as Callen.

"Look at you. It's pathetic," Angelo sneered. "If this office geek is the one to protect you, you're making it all so easy Callen. Believe me, this is not what I planned, but without your precious Hetty around this is the best chance I have for the time being to hurt that old, wicked and witchy boss of yours."

It was as if Callen had minutes to figure out different scenarios. Yet it was a matter of milliseconds. Angelo would go for Nell first, as fast as possible, assuming Callen was the easiest target. Callen estimated the distance and he stroke within the same second as the shot Angelo fired at Nell.  
The same second, but soon enough. It took all of the minimal bit of energy he had - but it kept Nell save. It didn't matter that he tumbled out of his bed and that immediately the whole room was spinning around — Angelo was unable to shoot Nell, or him. Not that he was able to fight the rogue agent, not at all. But the gun Angelo had, was dropped because of his action.  
All he had to do was to try and stay where he was so Angelo couldn't reach for the gun. Despite the fact that his ears started ringing and he had to blink his eyes so many times to try and stay focused, he kept his body covering Paul Angelo's legs. But he was losing that battle.

Nell kept her eyes on the smallest of movements near the nurses desk. Her partner tiptoeing closer, holding a gun as steady as possible. Then his words "Give it up, Angelo. You won't win."

"I will. In the end," the response came. A sickening kick hit Callen in his stomach and without any noise at all the senior agent was out. The obvious action of the other man was to reach for the gun he'd dropped. He didn't make it and another gunshot rang in this too small room. A grunt, and Paul Angelo remained where he was.

"My god, Beale," Nell sighed relieved. Then she more or less huffed at the now wounded man in front of her "Office geeks, right? You missed some years, Angelo."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || NCIS office of special projects || two hours later**

Sam Hanna walked in a nearly deserted office. He stood for a few seconds before he crossed the large hall to the corner and placed his postman's bag on his desk. It was sooner than he'd announced before he took off for holidays with Kamran and Aiden, and although he couldn't lay a finger on it, he had a gut feeling something was off. Looking up, the glass office which Mosley occupied nowadays was dark and empty. The same went for Hetty's corner office, and the desk of his partner.  
He took his phone, but no text messages were sent.

"Sir? Agent Hanna?" A female voice sounded and he looked up.

He nodded and said "Ranisha, right?" He recognized the woman, although Sam had no clue about her last name. She was one of his co-workers and the spokeswoman of the office.

A rather shy smile appeared on the woman's face and she nodded. "I suppose you would want to know that your boss is at the boatshed. With agent Jones."

He frowned. "Any reason why?"

"Because… ehm, because of, well…" The eyes of the younger woman widened. "I thought you'd know? The attack at the summer camp group and the hospital shooting earlier today?"

It never mattered he missed both parts of the news. Seeing the building this empty meant it had to do with his partner, he already knew. He turned on the screen of the connection with the interrogation room. One glance on what was going on was enough. "Callen?" he simply asked.

"He's at Cedars-Sinai."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || next day**

The soft murmur slowly turned into more audible, but still, distant voices. Sam's and Eric's. It felt safe and although he hadn't opened his eyes yet Callen gratefully sank back into a deep sleep.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The stirring of his friend's body and some wincing noises made Sam look up at Hetty, who joined him only some hours before. The older woman locked her eyes on the man ever since she sat next to the bedside. Without checking she said "The fever set in. Expectedly though, Mr. Hanna. His body endured so much."  
She fell silent for another minute and he let her. Both Eric and a nurse had informed him of all the injuries his friend was suffering from and by now the anger and worry already ebbed away. After all, it was never Callen's own doing, nor his stubbornness which got him in here.  
There was disappointment he still felt simply because Mosley had decided it wasn't necessary to call and inform him. Not that he could have helped Callen or Nell and Eric. Perhaps he could have prevented Callen to go in all alone at the very first call that came in, but he already knew that Paul Angelo had kept an eye on the caseload the members of the team had, with or without the help of the rogue LAPD officers. Simply by deducting it had been Angelo's best guess that none of the others were around and to lure Callen into this situation.

Angelo. He'd be gone for the next couple of years, safely locked up in Massachusetts' Souza Baranowski. What bothered Sam more was that once again people from Callen's past turned up. This time to join a dangerous former agent like Paul Angelo was. Next to that, Callen would need time to heal – again. The man hardly had had time to recover from the Mexican period.

It was as if Hetty read his mind. Her voice sounded sad now "If he'd cared less for me this wouldn't have happened." She paused a beat.  
"Oh bugger. He went in any way to try and save those kids. Angelo was all too aware that Grisha choses to try and keep everybody safe and sound and tends to forget how badly we want to keep him safe as well. But without people like him, like you too, Mr. Hanna, this country would be a mess. It is a great task of Miss Singh to keep you all tucked away as far as possible for the public. Citizens of this city and the country shouldn't be continuously aware of the threats against them."  
She sent him a comforting and grateful smile. "Sam… He'll be fine. Indeed, there will be more time needed for Mr. Callen to recover. There's his brand new clavicle which his body needs to accept. After all, this is an artificial surface. He'll need physical therapy and rest and time off before he will finally be ready for field duty. And although during the past 20 hours our boy's lungs received pure oxygen he is back to breathing in and out himself once again."

She pressed the button to call a nurse while still speaking. "For this moment I think there's a new dose of painkillers and antibiotics needed. And he's waking up, remember?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Hours later Sam chuckled once again, shaking his head in disbelief. "Really, G? A fork?"

"You should've seen that Sam. He simply threw himself from this bed and plunged a fork into Angelo's biceps. Then he grabbed the guy so Nell and I could make the arrest," Eric said.

It was good to see how his partner smiled a little at Eric's words and there even was some banter in his reply "Hetty's doing. This room 'n its service. No plastic cutlery." Even though Sam hated the short sentences and the wheezing way Callen had to draw in his breaths, it was good to see how his friend looked much better already.

Eric continued "Mosley left by the way. Not that I care. Not that we care, I mean, speaking for Nell as well I'm pretty sure. Texted Densi about it. Deeks and Kensi, sorry, correction of that, guys. Texted them as I said. They'll be back next week y'know."

Callen closed his eyes for a second.

"You tired G?" Sam asked.

As ever, Callen simply denied the direct question. "Where's she?"

"Mosley?" Eric asked. "Honolulu. Looks like she'll stay in there for a while. Hetty's back in charge, for the time being. Guess she can use a helping hand, Callen."

A moan came from the bed and Eric panicked. "You're in pain?"

"Despair, Beale. Not gonna need paperwork again. I need to be out. Fieldwork." Callen explained.

Sam shook his head. "Really… get some rest buddy. Too soon to discuss this."

Actually, he didn't need to bring the matter forward. Callen already closed his eyes and minutes later he was asleep again.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Two days later Callen had assured his friend that it was alright to go back to work and that he'd be okay, with a gun hidden under a shirt on the bedside table.

Sam stretched his strong but tired body after the second full day at work. Knowing that there would no longer be guards around to keep tabs on the people coming and going worked on his nerves. And he remembered his friend's bad temper and restive mood when it came to recovering and feeling he'd be locked up. Well, Sam thought, not much to look forward to.

He inhaled deeply, preparing himself to meet a grumpy and willful partner. Passing the nurses desk he peeked at Callen's temporary room. Much to his surprise the door was closed, as were the blinds.  
He halted for a second, carefully concentrating on anything extraordinary. A soft and indistinct voice. Not Callen's.  
'What the…' he muttered as he drew his gun.

Slowly, very slowly, he moved the handle and opened the door. First thing he noticed was Callen. Completely still, eyes closed, pale and with lines in his face which Sam hardly ever saw before.  
The rush of fabric. A second person in the room.

"Federal Agent. Don't move," he ordered as he entered the room. Meanwhile he licked his now dry lips. If it was anyone with bad intentions, Sam would be too late to save Callen's life.

"It's okay Sam."

There was a certain softness in Callen's voice. Slowly he moved towards Callen, his gun still raised until he turned to the other person in the room. He tilted his head and managed to face the guest. Female. Halfway her thirties, he estimated. Dark blond hair in an unruly tail, a wrinkled burgundy red shirt, dark jeans and brown boots. The expression on her face resembled that of Callen.  
Emotional.

"It's okay," Callen repeated and he swallowed some times.

Sam patiently waited, not planning to prod.

"This is Joanne Traver," Callen said. He closed his eyes again for the briefest moment, then continued. "She… Macy, her daughter, she's gonna be fine."

Before Callen could add anything the woman started to cry. She leaned her back along the wall and sank to a sitting position. Her silent sobs filled the room for a quiet few minutes, until Sam helped her up again. "Please, have a seat." He motioned to the chair next to the bed. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

She sat down on the edge of Callen's bed itself, sniffed and wiped her face before she answered. "Yes please."

Sam knew he interrupted something between Callen and this Joanne, something which wasn't part of his life. Something the two of them shared. Something the two of them needed to talk about without him.

Something so precious. Inwardly he shook his head. He read Nell's report. The young girl who was shot. This woman's daughter whose life Callen saved.

Before Sam turned to leave the room, he noted how Callen placed his hand on the woman's arm, until she looked up. Again, Callen closed his eyes for a quick second. There was a warm smile on his face, the particular wiggle of his jaw, and he moved his hand to Joanne's chin.  
"She's going to be fine. You're going to be fine, Joanne. We all are."

Silently, Sam closed the door. He'd find something to drink, somewhere. There was no hurry.

They were going to be okay.

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 _Thanks for reading, all of you._


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